


With Nothing Left to Lose

by AnnInymouse



Category: RedLetterMedia RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Suspicions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24300256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnInymouse/pseuds/AnnInymouse
Summary: It's been two years since Mike and Jay were a crime fighting duo. Now Jay may be up to something, and Mike isn't sure if he's prepared for what that could mean.
Relationships: Mike/Jay
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is, a Superhero AU. I'll try to update this on a weekly basis, but with other projects, life, and my own procrastination to get in the way, I don't want to make any promises. I have a full outline, so it will be finished! You know, eventually. The rating will also most likely go up to Explicit in the coming chapters, but I'm leaving it at Mature for now. Enjoy!

Having powers and nothing useful to do with them was becoming incredibly boring. It was unfair, really, since Mike had been fine letting his strength lay dormant for the first thirty years of his life, and would have continued to do so had Jay not come into his life and wormed a caring about vigilante justice out of him. Jay leaving and shredding his fucking soul to pieces had also been the reason he stopped using his powers altogether, so doubly fuck him for that. But two years have passed, and despite the pain of Jay leaving still feeling as fresh as the day he walked out, Mike is starting to feel restless.

He groans, getting out of bed as gently as he can without waking the person next to him. Carrie had barged into his apartment drunk last night when he was seven beers deep himself, and he can’t really remember what they had done outside of arguing and making out. He’s eighty percent sure hand stuff had been involved. The details are fuzzy after that.

He shuffles into the kitchen, debating cooking them both a decent breakfast before deciding—fuck that. Carrie had been flitting in and out of his life since Jay left, and by now should know not to expect breakfast in bed after a night with Mike. He also figures if her stomach is feeling anything like his right now, she won’t want a full meal anyway.

He settles for orange juice straight from the carton and walks around the small space that makes up the rest of his one bedroom apartment, not wanting to return to the bedroom just yet. Outside of the bedroom and its attached bathroom, there’s only a tiny kitchen and even smaller living room. It barely fit the couch and TV he’d crammed in there, the TV still sporting the gigantic hole he’d punched into it shortly after Jay walked out of his life. He keeps it in its current state as a reminder to himself not to let his emotions get out of control. The reminder seldom worked.

He chugs the rest of his orange juice, wincing when it burns his throat. Irritated at the thought of having to wallow in misery alone, he goes back into the bedroom, lifting the bed and jostling it when he has it high above his head. He hears Carrie grumble in complaint and slams it back down, not giving a shit about what his neighbors will think. They’re probably awake from his walking around anyway. He’d been told several times he has a habit of stomping.

“Morning,” he says to Carrie, who’s wearing her supposed natural look of shoulder length brown hair and long bangs, her slightly chubby frame hidden under the blankets. Carrie glares at him before murmuring “asshole” and shoving her head under a pillow. She groans and sits up when Mike won’t stop shaking the bed.

“We didn’t have sex last night, if that’s what you’re so fucking worried about. Let me fucking sleep.”

“Who says I was worried,” Mike chirps in an overly friendly voice, ignoring the relief that’s coursing through his body. He doesn’t mind having sex with Carrie, most of the time finds it good, the best he could expect since losing what might as well have been his soulmate. He just isn’t in the mood to deal with the fallout right now, that’s all.

“You’re lucky I didn’t have someone over when you barged in,” he says after Carrie continues to ignore him. She’d shoved her head back under the pillow.

He hears a muffled snort. “Oh yeah, ‘cuz you’re parading one night stands through this apartment. You barely even fuck me anymore.”

“Excuse me? We’ve had sex at least once a week for the past two years. Usually more.” Mike feels himself grow hot across the face. It had been stupid to joke about his sex life with her. Whenever he thinks he has the upper hand she manages to throw it right back in his face, a personality type he seems to have a penchant for.

“Oh yeah?” Carrie is sitting up fully now, the blanket slipping from her shoulders and revealing that she had passed out in her bra. “For you that’s barely, smart ass. Don’t act like you haven’t told me about your little exploits with almighty Jay—“

“Enough,” he snaps, halfheartedly shoving the bed across the floor. Thinking about Jay earlier was one thing, but hearing his name out loud still cuts through him like a knife. He feels newly exhausted after shoving the bed, his earlier desire to go back to crime fighting completely sapped. 

Carrie throws the blanket aside once the bed has settled, jumping out of it and shaking with rage. Her hair is transforming into short blond spikes, and if Mike isn’t careful she’ll make herself look like Jay completely, a move she pulls whenever Mike pushes her to her limit and she really wants to lay waste to him. She hasn’t done it in months, after the last time when Mike completely shut down to the point where she felt guilty. But her patience is clearly wearing thin, going so far as to transform into how Jay had looked when Mike first met him, where his messy hair, sad attempts at a beard, and chubbiness had made him particularly vulnerable looking and lovable to Mike.

“Look, I’m sorry, ok?” Mike says, desperate to diffuse the situation before he got any more Jay reminders and fell apart completely. “I just feel…useless today”

“Of course you’re useless. You don’t even have a fucking job anymore.”

“Ha ha. That’s not what I mean.”

“Is this because you haven’t bashed in any alien skulls since Jay left? Or whatever the fuck it is that you two used to do?”

Mike grits his teeth. She was still jamming her palm into his buttons, mocking him about better times, but at least her hair had gone back to normal. “Maybe.”

“ _ Maybe _ ,” she mimics back, then flops back into the bed. “You know how you can be useful? Make me breakfast.”

Mike resigns himself to losing this argument for now. “You gonna come into the kitchen to eat it? Or do you need it spoon-fed to you in bed.”

“I’ll get it when I get it.” She hadn’t yet moved back under the blankets, leaving herself lying with half her body dangling over the edge of the mattress. The bed-frame it was sinking into was chipped and cracked from years of Mike mishandling it, but like the TV he didn’t have the heart or money to replace it. The bed creaked when Carrie sat up to flip Mike off, and he returned the gesture before leaving to scrounge up a breakfast for them.

Aside from another carton of orange juice and what remained of his beer supply, there wasn’t much else in the fridge. Mike hated grocery shopping and stuck to take out most nights, despite his budget not really allowing for that kind of extravagance. He hasn’t had a job in two years, quitting his last job at a VCR repair shop because like everything else it was tied to Jay, and therefore too painful to return to. He hadn’t given enough of a shit to find another job in the meantime, and would have continued to not care, but he’d run out of his savings and had been told by his landlord that this current month would be his last in the apartment he’d lived in for nearly fifteen years now. 

He manages to find two eggs left in the carton buried behind his beer, and three slices of bread tucked away in his cabinet. He shoves the bread into his shitty toaster and cracks the eggs into his corroding skillet, thinking bitterly of the breakfasts he used to share with Jay. They were all special, the mornings he would wake up and find Jay cutting bread into strips for French toast, the ones where Jay would stand on his toes to plant a kiss on Mike’s neck as Mike grilled bacon, like Jay was surprised and grateful every time, even just the mornings where they were too hungover or exhausted to do more than pour a bowl of cereal and grunt at each other. Every morning had felt like a blessing, like his life finally had meaning and a reason to wake up and face each day, and like an idiot he had taken it all for granted. Now he was here, with no purpose, cooking the last of his food with broken appliances, about to become homeless and not giving a fuck either way.

Carrie shuffles into the room wearing Mike’s bathrobe and slippers, though they were essentially hers now. He could always let her use Jay’s old ones, but they’re buried away. He also finds how baggy the robe is on her cute, his annoyance from the bedroom fading as he slides her her plate of eggs and toast. He’s given her two of the three pieces, both as an olive branch and because his appetite wasn’t fully back yet.

“Scrambled?” She says, and his annoyance flares back up.

“You can eat somewhere else if this isn’t good enough for you.”

“I’m good,” she says, nibbling on toast as she takes a seat at the barstool that was pressed against the counter dividing the kitchen from the living room. “Got any coffee?”

Mike groans. “Is anything ever enough for you.”

“Nope.” She takes an obnoxiously loud crunch of toast after saying so. “Isn’t hard to please your type?”

Mike shoots her an icy warning glare that she returns with an apologetic grimace, a good enough sign that she would lay off for now.

Mike stares down at the water boiling for what little instant coffee he has remaining, listening to Carrie eat her toast and push the eggs around on her plate. He was starting to feel bad. He didn’t even have butter for the toast, leaving them to chew on what was really just hard bread that he’d burned.

“What’s wrong?” Carried asks when he continues to not say anything. “Are you still thinking about him?”

“No,” Mike says, which is partly a lie. Mike is always thinking about Jay, even when he wasn’t at the forefront. The image of him was always there, at the back of his mind, both mocking and soothing him that he’d once had something so perfect. 

“Then what is it?”

“Just, y’know. Wondering what kind of fuckup can’t afford rent in a shithole like Milwaukee.”

“Well, kind of hard to afford anything when you don’t have any income,” Carrie says, smiling at Mike as he glares at her, handing her the mug of coffee. “And Milwaukee is an expensive shithole.”

“I guess.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing to get out of this apartment. Plus you still have three week—“

“One,” Mike interrupts, the severity of the situation finally starting to seep in, leaving him chilled and queasy.

“One?” Carrie looks stricken. “I thought you had a month since he told you?”

“I have until the end of the month. Which is in ten days. So. Technically a week and a half.”

Carrie looks paler than usual, and selfishly Mike is glad he has someone here with him to see him through all this shit, a sympathy partner, even if Carrie isn’t really one for sympathy. He has friends he could call on, but they’d all been around to see the rise and fall of his relationship with Jay, and he needs a break from the kind of judgement that came with that point of view when he already feels shitty enough being kicked out on his ass.

He scoops eggs onto his now cold toast and takes a giant bite while Carrie continues to sit looking a little shellshocked. 

“So,” Mike says through bites of food, suddenly starving, “that’s what I’m fucking dealing with. You gonna finish that?”

Carrie wordlessly pushes over her plate, half a piece of toast and what looks like all of her eggs still on it. Mike piles the eggs onto what remained of his toast and pressed the two pieces together, making a miserable, half-eaten egg sandwich. He can’t blame Carrie for not eating her eggs. They’re rubbery and devoid of any flavor. Mike had never been good at making them. They’d usually been Jay’s job.

The worried look still hasn’t left her face, so Mike opens his mouth, leaning in to show Carrie the chewed up remains of his breakfast. She wrinkles her nose in disgust, calling him an asshole as she pushes him away from her. 

“You’re fucking disgusting.”

“You love it,” Mike gloats, popping the last bit of sandwich into his mouth. Carrie rolls her eyes and takes out her phone in response, which Mike sees as an invitation to do the same. No one’s texted him, not that he was expecting anything. The only person he talks to with any regularity anymore is his friend Rich, who can see the future and mostly uses his powers to keep himself financially afloat by predicting winners in gambling bets. Every week he tries to get Mike in on the action and every week Mike refuses, not wanting to cut into Rich’s only real source of income. 

“Has Rich texted you?” Carrie asks, still not looking up from her phone. Rich is the only friend of Mike’s she’s met, less because Mike wanted to introduce his best friend to his fuck buddy and more because she was involved in Mike’s life enough to occasionally pop into some of Rich’s visions, and Mike felt it would’ve been weird to not have him meet her at least once after that. Aside from betting odds, the things Rich is able to get future insight on is often random and inconvenient to Mike’s life. 

“Not yet. At some point I’m gonna have to take him up on his offer to let me move in with him.”

“The fuck are you waiting for?”

“I feel bad.”

“Why?”

“I just…do.” Mike hides his wince behind his phone, trying not to remember the unforgivable shit he screamed at Rich after Jay broke his heart. No amount of Rich claiming he was never hurt by what Mike said can make Mike feel like he deserves forgiveness, let alone like he deserves the right to mooch off him.

“Ok then,” Carrie says when Mike refuses to offer anything further. “Does he even need you to tell him? Can’t he, like, predict what you’re gonna say?”

“I guess. He just likes to give me the chance to actually talk to him.”

“How sweet,” Carrie says, and goes back to her phone when Mike glares at her.

Annoyed with Carrie and not yet wanting to reach out to Rich on his offer, Mike checks the local news sites, an annoying habit he got into when he and Jay needed leads on possible crimes they wanted to get involved with that he hasn’t been able to break, even if he doesn’t stop the crimes anymore. His stomach drops after coming across a story he was fearing he’d find, and he clears his throat, fake casual.

“So I was kind of hoping you could help me pack.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“I don’t know, to be nice?” Carrie seems to permanently live on his last nerve, but he’s too anxious to let her leave the apartment just yet.

“When the fuck have I ever been nice.”

“Fine, then because I cooked you your fucking breakfast.”

Carrie sighs, putting her phone away. “As tempting as packing up all your sad shit is, I can’t. I told my sister I’d babysit.”

“You don’t even like your sister,” Mike says too quickly, trying to sound sympathetic. Commiserating over their fucked up family lives was one of the first things Mike and Carrie bonded over, when Mike had stopped sobbing about Jay long enough to hold a conversation. 

“Yeah, well, whatever.” Carries narrows her eyes, inching closer to him over the countertop. “Why do you want me to stay so bad?”

“I don’t,” Mike says, gritting his teeth over how unconvincing he sounds. “Just…need help packing. That’s all.”

Carrie glares at him for a few seconds more before jumping over the counter to grab for his phone, transforming her hand longer in the process. Mike makes a halfhearted attempt to keep it from her before relenting, knowing she’ll just pitch a fit if she doesn’t get the real answer from him.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” she says after she settles back into her seat and has a chance to skim through the article. “ _ This  _ is what you’re worried about? The stupid disappearances?”

“They’re not stupid!” Mike yells back, hating that he’s being made to feel like an asshole for caring about her wellbeing. “Two more women were reported missing yesterday after being seen only minutes beforehand. That makes thirty—“

“37 total missing person cases to fall under similar circumstances this year,” Carries finishes, sliding his phone back to him. “I can read, Mike. Did you know that these mysterious possible kidnappings have been going on since August 2015? And now, nine months later, police suspect that 55 people have been kidnapped by this possible gang, with no leads as to what’s causing it? Because that’s in every fucking article too.”

Mike resists that urge to pitch his phone into the ground out of frustration. “Aren’t you at all worried?”

“Aren’t you,” she shoots back, tilting her head, mocking him. “It’s not like it’s just women disappearing. Men are, too. There’s no pattern in who disappears, just that it happens suddenly. Surely you read that.”

“I did,” Mike says, biting his tongue to keep himself from screaming at her, telling her to fuck off and get taken for all he cares. Nothing gets under his skin like being condescended to for having feelings. “That’s part of the problem. You can’t just…transform into something unappealing.”

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot! You’re the one with  _ useful _ powers. Silly me! My powers are just for show, I’ll need you to protect me—“

“Enough!” Mike screams, and Carrie slinks down into her seat. “Don’t put that shit on me! I’ve never fucking said that about you.” He’s seething, her words coming way too close to hitting a raw nerve. Distantly he’s aware that he’s being too hard on her, that he’s never told her what his breakup with Jay was started by, that she doesn’t know how close she came to dredging up old shit she was never even a part of. But he’s too angry for logic, barely containing the urge to drive his fist through his stovetop or tear his counter out of the wall.

“I’m sorry,” Carrie whispers, and Mike’s anger calms a bit. “I’m sorry, okay? I know you’ve never said anything like that. Mike.” She’s at his side suddenly, leaning into him and petting his arm. He’s still breathing hard but his mind has cleared, staring down into her face as she makes her eyes bigger and sweeter. “I’ll stay and help you pack for a little bit, yeah?”

“You don’t have to,” Mike mumbles, calm enough to be embarrassed by his anger flare up. “It’s just…you can’t transform in public anyway, you’ll get in trouble if someone sees…”

“I know,” she says, still petting his arm and not taking the opportunity to call him an asshole for explaining the law to her. “We don’t have to worry about that right now. Let’s pack up this dump.”

She lets go of his arm, moving to wash up the dishes while Mike surveys the living room. There’s really not much to pack since Mike plans on throwing most of this shit out anyway. He decides to start with the TV, unplugging it and lifting it onto his shoulder. Carrie looks up from wrapping his meager amount of dishes and glasses in paper towel when she hears him open the door, smirking at him.

“Need help?”

“Think I can manage, thanks.”

Once in the hallways he scrunches up his face, attempting to make it look like he’s struggling to carry the television down three flights of stairs to the dumpsters behind his building. No one is around, but he can’t be certain nobody is peering through their peepholes at him. He tends to attract unwelcome glares from his neighbors, none of whom explicitly know he has enhanced physical strength but are able to hear him clamoring around on a near daily basis. Jay at least could ward off their grievances with his sunshiny smile and willingness to listen to their complaints. Now Mike was left to fend for himself, aside from Carrie, who only came by once or twice a week and had never given a single fuck about placating anyone ever in her life who wasn’t seriously upset, so far as Mike could tell.

He tosses the TV into the dumpster furthest from the curb, grunting for good measure. It’s mid-May, and though it was only a step above winter chills a week ago, today shows the first promising signs of summer, the sun shining bright in a cloudless sky. Despite not actually exerting any energy from carrying the TV down Mike is actually working up a sweat. He goes back out to the curb and sits, closing his eyes and breathing in the warm air. If he strains he can hear birds chirp over the noise of the city, and he smiles. It’s felt like ages since he’s been able to just sit and enjoy something, anything. He squints at a plane flying overhead, a speck against a bright blue backdrop. In his mind it’s a spaceship, doing a friendly patrol of Earth and its inhabitants. Mike has only met the evil kind of aliens, the kind whose skulls he had to smash unless mankind wanted to be ruled by alien overlords, at least in Milwaukee. But there must be peaceful ones up there, somewhere. Maybe they can sense who’s lonely and depressed, beaming them up to a promise of a better life. Maybe that’s where all the missing people are going. Maybe Mike will be next.

Embarrassed as always by where his mind wanders to when allowed to wallow in self pity, Mike gets off the curb and makes his way back up to Carrie. By the time he’s back she’s moved on from the dishes, helping herself to rifling through the drawers on the stand where the TV sat.

“Did you get lost?” She asks as he closes the door behind him, not looking up from the drawer she has open.

“Something like that. I see you’ve taken to prying through my shit.”

“Relax,” she says, and he can hear the eye roll. “I know you’ve probably got the good stuff hidden away somewhere.”

Mike just grunts in response as his face turns pink, because she’s unfortunately right. The really sentimental stuff, like the robe and slippers and various other mementos from his relationship with Jay, are in a box in his closet, buried under piles of clothes at all times. He’s never dared to take it out and sort through it, and he doesn’t plan to now, will just place it carefully in his car unopened before finding a hiding spot for it at Rich’s place.

“These are really good,” Carrie says as Mike walks over to her. She holds up one of the hundreds of drawings kept in the drawer and various other places throughout the apartment. The one she’s holding is just a sketch, wispy pencil strokes depicting Mike when he was younger and a bit thinner, chest puffed out and arms outstretched, protecting someone behind him. “Did you draw these?”

“God no,” Mike snorts, reaching under her arm to pick up another one, a complete colored drawing of the VCR repair shop. “My friend Freddie drew these back when we—I did crime fighting shit.”

“Wow,” Carrie says sincerely. “He just drew all these for you?”

“He drew them for work. He’s a comic book artist. W—I’d tell him about all the shit that happened, then he’d use that for ideas. He did other stuff,” Mike adds, feeling suddenly defensive and not wanting to imply Freddie couldn’t come up with his own ideas. “He just liked our stories a lot. He’d give us a cut of the sales.” It was actually the savings from those sales that had kept Mike afloat since quitting the repair shop, but with no new adventures to chronicle and sales dwindling as readers bought newer stories, the money had finally run out. Mike didn’t really feel like sharing that part. Freddie had also drawn them personal things, some of which are in Mike’s memory box, like a recreation of one of Mike’s favorite photos of him and Jay together. He’s definitely not sharing that fact.

“You said ‘our’,” Carrie chimes in, snapping Mike out of his money troubles.

“Huh?”

“You corrected the ‘we’s’ to ‘I’s’ but you slipped up on the ‘our’.”

“Well, we were a ‘we’,” Mike snaps, pissed off that she’s throwing his failure to editorialize Jay out of his life in his face, as if he wasn’t involved with every every aspect of it that had meaning. He slams the drawer closed, barely giving Carrie time to snatch her hand out of the way.

“Dick,” she mutters, leaning down to sort through the remains of his DVD collection. “Oh, I forgot. Someone called you when you were taking the TV down.”

“Was it Rich?”

“Didn’t check. Probably. Who else would call you.”

Mike folds up the repair shop drawing he’s still holding and goes into the kitchen where he left his phone, mildly surprised that Carrie didn’t take the opportunity to mock him for who he wished would call. His missed call alert informs him it was Rich who called, and before he can tap on the icon to call back Rich is already calling again.

“Hey Rich,” Mike answers, steeling his nerves for wherever this conversation is going to go. He has a lie prepared if Rich tries to let him in on winning gambling bets, some bullshit about possible repair work at an electronics shop a few towns over. He just hopes Rich hasn’t already foreseen Mike having to come clean about that lie.

“Mike, hey. What’s up.” Something about Rich’s voice sounds off, but it might just be the phone. Rich has an unusually high voice that often gets fucked up through microphones and speakers.

“Uh, nothing. You called me.”

“Yeah, just…wanted to check in.”

“Ok…hi.”

“Is that Rich?” Carrie calls from the living room.

“Yeah.”

“What’s he calling about?”

“He’s just saying hi.”

“Who is that?” Rich asks.

“Carrie.”

“Oh. She’s still there this late in the day?”

“Shut up,” Mike says, his face heating up, snarling a little when he can hear Rich doing his high pitched wheeze-laugh. “It’s only like 12:30.”

“That’s true, you probably just woke up.”

“You get up later than me!”

“Fair,” Rich replies, still chuckling. “Seriously, what’s she doing there? Are you two—“

“No,” Mike cuts in, not wanting him to finish that thought. He bites back a retort about how Rich could just look into the future to get whatever answer he was looking for. “She’s helping me pack.” He hears Carrie sigh and ignores it.

“Ah, ok. How’s that going?”

“Is that what you’re really calling about? The move?” Mike is working to keep his voice steady, his patience wearing thin. He has no right to ever snap at Rich after everything he’s put him through, but he often can’t control how short-tempered he is, and Rich has an annoyingly passive way of trying to get Mike to talk. “Yeah, I need to move in with you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, well, hey! That’s good, I was hoping you’d say that. It’ll be fun.”

“Mhm,” Mike hums. Rich’s optimism makes him feel a little better, and also guilty for feeling better. He shouldn’t rely on Rich to fix his messes for him, yet here he is, at rock bottom again, needing Rich to throw down a rope and drag him up.

“Look, that’s actually not why I called,” Rich says when Mike doesn’t offer anything more, wallowing in guilt. 

“Please don’t tell me about any bets I can make—“

“It’s not that either.”

A coldness drips through Mike, his throat closing and palms breaking out into a sweat. He puts the phone down so he can wipe them.  _ It’s fine _ , he tries to tell himself  _ it’s probably nothing _ , but he can’t make himself believe it. It’s something bad, it has to be, he just knows it. Fuck, he can feel it, the news he’s about to hear an almost physical weight latching onto him and dragging him down into depths he didn’t know were possible. He lets out a shaky breath, ready to hear the news that may drown him for good.

“What is it?”

“Mike,” and Rich’s voice is definitely fucked up now. “I’m sorry, ok, I—“

“Rich just tell me.”

“It’s Jay.”

The weight drops and Mike is done for, plummeting to the bottom of god knows what with no way out, because there’s no way this can be good.

“In person, or…”

“A vision, Mike. But it was fast, only a second. He just appeared, out on the road somewhere in that crappy car you guys used to drive, and then he was gone.”

Mike’s throat is dry and he has no idea how he’s able to make it work when he asks “Where was he.”

“No idea. Like I said, it was fast, and I didn’t see any signs or landmarks or anything.”

“Rich, I…like I mean…fuck, when…when did this happen?”

“Saw it this morning. Tried for like an hour to see if I could get anything else, then called you when I couldn’t.”

“I…have you been trying to find him still?”

“Not really. I’d been trying to look for signs of him ever since he left, you know that—“

“I do!” Mike shouts, shame washing over him. Almost immediately after Jay walked out Rich had tried every day to force some vision of him to appear, never with any luck, and Mike feels like an asshole for sounding like he was accusing him for not trying hard enough. “Rich, I know you’ve been trying to find him, I didn’t mean—“

“Mike, calm down! Jesus. I know you were just asking.” Mike’s breathing evens out after hearing that, but his heart is still pounding away, almost drowning Rich out. “Honestly, I kind of gave up a few months ago, ‘cuz it was getting depressing and annoying, searching and never finding anything. And of course right after I give up hope this happens, even if it’s not much.”

Mike is barely registering anything Rich is saying anymore, the weight feeling still dragging him down to god knew where. He felt a sense of urgency course through him, a need to protect Jay from whatever had caused Rich to see him. Because it had to be some horrible cosmic fuckup that brought Jay out of hiding after two years, something nefarious that Mike needed to slay, whether it was a supernatural being or something worse, something breaking in Jay’s soul. The fact that Mike had no idea where to find Jay was pulling him down even further, choking him.

“Rich,” Mike croaks, interrupting whatever Rich was in the middle of saying. “What…what the fuck do I do, how do I find him? This is bad, fuck, this is so bad, Rich—“

“Mike, just calm down.” Rich is using the stern voice he only ever breaks out when he needs Mike to shut the fuck up and listen to him. “Look, come over to my place, it’ll be easier to talk about this all in person.”

“Ok.” Mike is half listening to him, half restraining himself from crushing his phone in his palm. 

“Mike, did you hear me?”

“Yes! Come over to your place, got it. I’ll be there in a little while.”

“Ok, good. And Mike? Try to calm down.”

“Little late for that, Rich!” Mike barks, and hangs up the phone before Rich can give him more bullshit zen advice. He closes his eyes, taking a few shallow breaths through his nose before turning to Carrie.

“I have to—“

“Go to Rich’s. Yeah, I heard.”

“I’ll drop you off at your sister’s place.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs, smart enough not to bring up their earlier fight. “What’d he see?”

“Jay.” His heart feels like it’s been stabbed when he says his name. It’s a name he’s said so many times before, in so many different ways, a name he never thought he’d get to put a face to again. Now he might, and he’s not sure he’s ready for it.

“Ah,” Carrie says, and she opens her mouth like she’s about to say something before closing it again, thinking better of it.

“Just say it.”

“Do you think he’s causing, uh…everything that’s happening?”

Mike closes his eyes and swallows around the giant lump in his throat because yeah, that’s what he’s been fearing most of all, lurking underneath the surface of everything else. It’s way too coincidental that Rich has seen Jay for the first time right as the disappearances are reaching an all time high, and Mike isn’t able to kid himself that they aren’t connected. He knows Rich thinks so too, that he wants to tell Mike that in person, that he’ll be able to better control the ensuing freak out Mike will have if he’s in the same room as they voice this conclusion together.

“No idea. Maybe. But who knows. Rich only saw him for a split second, just standing somewhere. It’s probably nothing.” But Mike isn’t able to sound convincing enough for either of them.

“Maybe,” Carrie whispers, and they leave it at that.

They change into their real clothes, Carrie in the bathroom and Mike in his bedroom, slipping the drawing he was still holding into his back jeans pocket. He paces while waiting for Carrie to come out, his mind going in a million different directions, none of them good. The most fucked up thing is he wants Jay here, his Jay, pre-whatever-the-fuck-is-happening-now Jay, who’s the only person who could get Mike to calm down right now. He would know just what to do, grabbing Mike by the arm to get him to stop pacing, cupping Mike’s face in both his tiny hands, stroking Mike’s jaw with his thumbs as he stared into Mike’s eyes and told him to just relax a second, just breathe, they didn’t know everything yet and no matter how bad it was they had each other…

Mike shakes his head as if he can physically fling these thoughts from his mind. He can’t think about this shit right now; it’s too dangerous. He needs a clear head when he gets to Rich’s place.

Carris is finally done in the bathroom and they walk down to Mike’s car in silence. The one mercy Jay granted him after walking out was leaving Mike the better car. It’s nothing great, a 2005 Accord that has more than a few mechanical problems, but it’s in much better shape than the piece of shit 90s something Corolla Mike had kept around as a last resort ride. Beneath all the pain he’d felt the night Jay left he’d been mildly shocked when Jay had been able to start the car and peel out of the parking lot as fast as he did.

The car ride is mostly silent, Carrie only speaking to relay how to get to her sister’s house and Mike only grunting in acknowledgement. Her house is only a five minute drive from Mike’s apartment, and he wishes it were longer, afraid to face what’s about to unfold. They linger in the car for a little while, parked outside her sister’s house, neither wanting to be the first to say goodbye.

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Carrie says, and her voice is as unconvincing as Mike’s was before.

“Did we really not have sex last night,” Mike blurts out, latching onto any stupid thing he can to get his mind to go somewhere else. Carrie punches his shoulder.

“You’re such a fucking asshole. No, moron. I fell asleep in my clothes.”

“Underclothes.”

“Still clothes.”

“So what happened last night?” Mike is unable to keep the desperation out of his voice, and Carrie sighs, taking pity on him.

“You really don’t remember?”

“I was pretty drunk.”

“I could tell. I got drunk and came over to your place because I was annoyed at my sister. When I came over you started yelling at me not to barge in on you. So I called you an asshole. You called me a bastard, so I started laughing. Then we kissed and went to your bedroom, but we both got too tired and passed out before we could do much of anything. Then I woke up to you shaking the bed in the air like a psychopath.”

Mike grunts, barely looking at her. He’s pretty sure she’s leaving stuff out, but he doesn’t really care. He just wants one last normal conversation before everything changes. He snorts at how ridiculous his life is that this is the best he can do to have a normal conversation.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing, I just…my life’s a fucking mess isn’t it?”

“It is,” Carrie says, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. She’s undone her seatbelt, and Mike’s pretty sure she’s about to get out. “But mine is too. You know this is where I stay? When I’m not bothering you at your place?”

“Oh.” Mike hadn’t known that, actually. He knew Carrie had bad financial luck, too, but he figured she at least had her own place. He was only now realizing not once in the past two years had he thought to ask her to go back to her place, that he’d always assumed they would go to his. He feels a new sense of guilt wash over him, which is either a terrible or perfect way to feel going to Rich’s. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and she doesn’t have to ask him for what. She just leans over to kiss him again, this time on the lips, and gets out of the car. Mike rolls down the passenger side window so he can keep talking to her.

“Good luck,” she says. “It’ll be fine, don’t worry. Call me if anything happens.”

“Ok,” he says, knowing he won’t. He’s pretty sure she knows that too, and that she wouldn’t want him calling regardless. It was just something nice to say to send him off. He does so, knowing where he is well enough to not need to look up how to get to Rich’s house on his phone. He can feel his heart thump faster for every house he passes, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard they’re turning white. He has no idea what his face looks like but he’s sure that it’s pale too. 

Making the final turn onto Rich’s block is agony, and Mike half debates jerking the wheel so he’ll crash into a tree. Despite knowing it’s a terrible idea, he imagines Jay in the seat next to him.

_ Why are you nervous _ , he’d ask, playing up the sardonic tone in his voice to hide the fact that he cares about Mike’s wellbeing.

_ I’m scared about what you might be doing _ , Mike would reply, and he can see the eye roll Jay would level at him so clearly that for a moment he believes Jay really is there. But he’s not, and now Mike is parked in Rich’s driveway, too terrified to turn off the engine and go inside.

_ Look at me _ , Jay would say, all the mocking gone from his voice as he put his hand on Mike’s knee, using his other hand to turn Mike’s face to him. His voice would be gentle, the way it was whenever Mike worried about what they were doing, if they were going to get caught or if they’d finally pissed off something that could kill them.

_ I’m looking _ , Mike would snap sarcastically, and Jay would just continue holding him, leaning in a little. He would kiss Mike’s lips, softly at first, almost chaste, before leaning back in to lick at them until Mike would let him in, wrapping one hand around Jay’s waist and grabbing the back of his head with the other, pulling Jay close. Jay would wrap both his arms around Mike’s back, moaning a little when Mike took over the kiss, willing and surrendered to Mike as Mike made their kiss deeper. They’d stay like that for awhile, Mike too afraid of what would come next to break the kiss, Jay willing to follow Mike’s lead if it’s what would keep them safe. Finally they’d have to pull apart, to breathe and to acknowledge that they had to go in and face this thing head on. Jay would take Mike’s face in his hands one more time, pressing their noses together, letting Mike feel his hot breath as he talked, like it was a physical thing that would turn his comforting words into an actual shield.

_ I’m not doing anything, Mike. We’re in this together. I go where you go, and you go where I go. Why worry when we have everything we need together. _

Mike swats the air as if shooing away the phantom Jay he created. His eyes are burning and his throat is closing. It was a dumb fucking move to think about one of the last nice things Jay said to him before everything fell apart, right as he’s about to walk into the its apparent sequel. He shuts off his car and unbuckles his seatbelt, pretending it’s the thing weighing him down, no longer holding him back. He’s less successful at imaging this, still feeling like he’s drowning in the ocean with a boulder tied to his waist, dragging his feet as he walks up to Rich’s front door. He really does feel like he’s trapped underwater, lungs too full to breathe and his hand moving slowly as he knocks. Hearing Rich shuffle inside to let him in, he looks up at the sky, trying to send a good thought into the universe.

  
_ Jay if you can hear me I’m coming. No matter what happens today and whether you like it or not I’m coming back to you _ . He imagines his words successfully making their way to Jay, raining down and settling on his skin, letting him know Mike is still out there for him. He can practically see the way Jay would shiver as his words land on him, and it’s this image that he wraps around his mind like armor to keep from collapsing in fear when Rich opens the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Beed, an enthusiastic cheerleader and a wonderful friend.

If there was any holiday Mike hated more than all the others, it was New Year’s Eve. Each year the 31st of the December was increasingly more of an excuse to get drunk out of his mind and do shit he’d wake up in the morning, hopefully in his own bed, to regret. His stupidity seemed to carry him throughout the year, getting himself into worse and worse situations until a new year came along to top the one before it.

Ringing in 2008 was no different. Mike had woken up at eight in the morning with a pounding headache and a stranger in his bed. He vaguely recalled texting people the night before, when his drunkenness was at its all time high, and got out of bed to search for his phone. It was on his kitchen counter for some reason, the screen and the keyboard now hanging together by a mere thread. He flipped it open gently, which was not easy. The last thing he needed was for his phone to break. He needed it, unfortunately, and could in no way afford a new one, even one as shitty as his was.

He had three messages. Two were from people he’d hooked up with in the past few months. He ignored those for now, wincing at what he could have possibly said while intoxicated and not yet ready to see their answering reply. The third was from his sister, who he only spoke to in brief stints on holidays and birthdays. He’d texted her _Happy almost new year_ at 10:00 PM, his last sober hour. Her message was simply _u 2_ , sent at 6:30 that morning.

Mike snarled, resisting the urge to crush his phone in his hand. Though he and his sister hadn’t been close since they were children, and spoke less and less since their mom had passed away, he still deep down wanted her to care about him. When he thought about it, she was really the only person he knew who still maybe cared about him, outside of his friend Rich.

Shit, Rich.

Mike checked to make sure he hadn’t sent Rich anything embarrassing or obnoxious the night before, then called him. Rich hated technology even more than Mike did, and preferred brief phone calls to text conversations if he had to be bothered at all.

“Hello?” Rich answered on the fifth ring, sounding groggy, and Mike remembered with some guilt that it was technically still early in the morning, and Rich was not at all a morning person.

“Hey man, just wanted to wish you a happy New Year. Sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

“Trust me, sparing me from your drunk texts is the best way you could’ve helped me ring in the new year.” Rich sounded more awake, if not more annoyed. “Why are you even up?”

“Hangover woke me up. Maybe I’ll take a page out of your book this year and stop drinking.”

“Yeah, right. I’ll drop dead before ever getting a vision of that.”

“Maybe it’s one of those things that’ll happen without you foreseeing it.”

“An event that earth-shattering would be impossible for me not to see.”

Mike grunted into the phone. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to have his ever expanding drinking problem thrown into his face, but Rich had helped him out of one too many binds, drunken and otherwise, for him to really complain. 

“Yeah, well, warn me if it ever happens so I can get a few more drinks in before I hop on the wagon.”

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that Mike. Have you gotten any responses for the repair shop gig?”

Mike groaned. It was just like Rich to throw reality back in his face when he was bored of their conversation. “I haven’t checked yet. Figured people weren’t exactly spending their New Year’s Eve responding to Craigslist ads for shitty jobs.”

“Fair.”

“Yeah, fair. You sure you don’t want the job?” There was no way Rich would take the job, having told Mike so several times, but Mike couldn’t resist trying to goad him into it at least one more time.

“Trust me, I’m good. You sure you don’t wanna quit that dump and get in with me?”

Mike snorted. Much like Rich would never sit next to Mike at the VCR Repair Shop, Mike would never cut into Rich’s decent living of what was technically cheating at gambling. “Nah. You know me, not much of a lucky gambler.”

“It’s not gambling if you know you’ll win.”

“Touché. Still no. I gotta go, I, uh, have company.”

“Jesus Christ. Do you at least know their name?”

“Uhhh…”

“You’re on your own, I’m hanging up now.”

“Rich, wait—“

“I’m putting the phone down now.”

“Please just predict it for me—“

“Byeeee.”

“Rich!” Mike whined into the phone, but he was already gone.

He groaned, putting his phone away and nearly jumping out of his skin when he turned around and saw the girl he’d slept with the night before now standing in the entrance of his kitchen.

“Happy New Year,” she said, fully saddling up to his side and kissing him on the cheek. Mike kissed the top of her head awkwardly, heart still slamming.

“Hey, uh…you. Good morning. Uh, if you want breakfast all I have is cereal.” He slid out of her arms and reached for his top cabinet where he had three different boxes of cereal, all in various states of staleness. He always hated this part of the morning after, skirting around each other and trying to gage who should be the first to not so subtly make the suggestion that their time together was over. Usually when he did this shit at his place he just laid in bed, pretending to sleep through the other’s waking up and eventual leaving. Of course his hangover would ruin that plan on the first day of the year.

“That’s ok,” she’d said, and his heart calmed significantly. “I should get going actually, I’m meeting some friends for New Year’s Day brunch.”

Mike wasn’t sure if that had been an attempt to invite him or if she was just an oversharer. Either way he just stood there, giving her a half smile as she went back to the bedroom to put her clothes on.

When she came back out she went over to him and tickled his cheek.

“Before I go, can you do the thing from last night again?”

“Uh.” His panic came back, brain scrambling to remember what the hell he’d done the night before. “Remind me.”

“The _Dirty Dancing_ lift,” she giggled, and he felt his cheeks color. The move was cheesy as fuck but it was often his go to, a way to show off his strength without raising suspicion on just how strong he was. If he was really drunk or really wanted to impress whoever it was, he would do it with one arm. It had a one hundred percent success rate with women, less so with guys.

He couldn’t remember how he’d done it the night before so he used both arms, grabbing her gently by the waist and raising her high above his head, ducking down a little so she wouldn’t get smacked by the ceiling. She giggled harder, beaming down at him, and if Mike hadn’t been so hungover and still unable to recall her name he might have tried to sleep with her one more time before she left for her stupid brunch. Instead he put her down, barley participated in the kiss she gave him at the door, then grabbed the first box of cereal he could get his hands on and flopped stomach-down onto the living room couch.

He’d laid on the couch for awhile, miserably eating cereal directly out of the box and watching the remaining hours of the _Twilight Zone_ marathon. He sometimes felt this shit world was just a _Twilight Zone_ mirror of a better one, a place where a person could have powers and not have to worry about being thrown in prison or worse for using them in even the most mundane fashion. He’d gotten sloppy in hiding his powers recently, mostly using them to pick up someone at the bar, often literally, but he still felt a pang remembering how cautious his mother had begged him to be when he was younger, how she’d alluded to times she’d nearly gotten in over her head and begged him to not make the same mistakes. 

Mike shoved another handful of cereal in his mouth and turned to rest his cheek higher on the couch, giving him a better look at the TV. The episode playing was one that bothered him the most, where a man who loved to read survived the apocalypse and was content to spend the rest of his days unbothered with the entire world’s library at his fingertips, only to smash his glasses and be rendered near blind. The episode had always broken Mike’s heart a little bit. The poor bastard just wanted to be left alone to read, and Rod Serling punished him for it. 

Spiraling into an even shittier mood, his hangover feeling somehow worse from just lying on the couch, Mike shut the TV off and went to his bedroom to check his email for possible resumés. He’d put his personal email for the contact information, not wanting corporate to see responses from Craigslist in the store’s email inbox and realize he’d pocketed the money they’d given him to host the job posting on a more legitimate website.

He waited bitterly for his piece of shit computer to boot up, annoyed that he was so out of things to do that he was checking his email in the middle of the afternoon on New Year’s Day. Part of him was desperate to hire someone so he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore time manning the shop alone. Not enough work really came in to warrant two people, but as much as the guy who’d quit had annoyed the shit out of Mike, it was borderline torture sitting there alone, not a single person to talk to. The other part of him hoped no one would ever answer and he could use this as an excuse to leave the shop for good, to start a new life for himself. Maybe he could enter some strongman competitions for cash and rake in money that way. There had to be other people who used their powers to get ahead, and all Mike did was use them to get laid, like a chump.

After Windows finally opened and he suffered through a few more minutes of waiting for the Internet to respond, Mike was finally able to check his email. He had eight unread messages, six of them spam and one of them an e-card from some cousin he hadn’t spoken to in years wishing him a Happy New Year. The last, he was shocked to find, was a legitimate resumé sent just an hour earlier from the email handle _horrorslurpee@aol.com_.

_To Whom it May Concern,_

_Attached is my resumé for the Assistant Manager position at Lightning Fast VCR Repair Shop, Milwaukee. I have a passion for both movies and technological repair with several years of retail experience. I thank you for your time, and welcome the opportunity to discuss the position with you further._

_Sincerely,_

_Jay Bauman_

Mike snorted at how formal this guy had written an email to a job application he’d found on fucking Craigslist, and for a moment thought it might be a joke. He decided it would be a pretty lame joke for someone to pull, especially on New Year’s Day, and the resumé seemed legit, even if it was attached to an unbelievably dorky email address. The guy had no college degree, which corporate wouldn’t be thrilled about, wanting a B.S. in some sort of technology or film field despite barely fucking paying minimum wage and offering minuscule benefits, but Mike didn’t care. There was enough retail experience listed on his resumé, some of it involving mechanical work, that Mike was sure he could use as leverage if HR really tried to test him. Besides, Mike didn’t need someone who was super knowledgeable. All he really needed was someone with smaller hands to help with the delicate parts and a willingness to hold a conversation, which, if this guy loved movies as much as he passionately claimed to, shouldn’t be too hard. Mike wrote back saying he could interview Jay at any point that week, and to his surprise Jay emailed back in mere minutes saying he was available tomorrow. Mike confirmed a 1:00 interview time, not wanting to talk to anybody before his lunch hour, and shut his computer off. Walking to his kitchen to scrounge up leftovers, Mike wondered if the guy was some sort of creep, a little uneasy that he apparently had nothing better to do than respond to a Craigslist job posting on a holiday. But Mike also had nothing better to do on a holiday than check his email for resumés, so maybe the guy was a kindred spirit.

Besides, Mike thought, reheating Chinese food that may have been expired. He just needed someone who could manage not to drive him out of his mind for eight hours a day. This guy would probably be fine.

***

Mike was still a little hungover when he got to work the next day, bitter that he couldn’t drink like he used to. He was turning 30 that year, and the thought that his best years may be behind him despite having done nothing great with them put him in a foul mood. The fact that he could barely afford his simple lunch of a sandwich from the deli next door did little to help, and at 12:55 Mike was still in a shit mood and in no state to interview someone. This Jay guy would probably take one look at the scowl on his face and walk right back out, and once he was out of sight Mike could burn the stupid shop to the ground with no witnesses so long as the deli guys kept their mouths shut. He was busy formulating this plan when at 12:58 the bell above the door rang.

Years later, lying together in bed, Mike’s arms around him, Jay would insist Mike couldn’t have known from the second he lay eyes on him that he’d loved him, or even liked him, that Mike was dramatic and oversimplifying things. Mike would always insist it was true, that the second he looked up from the counter and locked eyes with Jay he forgot all about his arson plans and instead became fixated on the man in front of him, his mutton chops and messy hair, the way he sort of slouched in the door, that he wanted to reach out to grab him and never let go. At any rate Mike had felt strongly enough about Jay’s presence to snap out of his bad mood and give him a chance.

“I’m, uh, here for the Assistant Manager interview,” Jay said, and Mike got up to make his way around the counter.

“Well, well well, if it isn’t Jay Bauman,” Mike had replied, holding his hand out to shake Jay’s. Jay had taken it and snickered nervously.

“Yeah, that’s me. Are you Mike?”

“Indeed I am.”

“Do you always talk like a Bond villain?”

Mike’s brain had short circuited for some reason when Jay said this, and all he could think to reply with was “Sick reference.” Jay hadn’t bothered to hide the annoyed look on his face at that remark, and Mike immediately respected him for it. Already he was prone to the little things about Jay, his facial expressions and nervous tics like licking over his bad teeth as Mike continued to stare him down. Already Mike wanted to get under his skin and stake his claim. Fuck whatever Jay thought later—Mike would always be able to look back at their introduction and know he’d felt it even then.

Mike had no way of fully realizing any of this at the time, channeling his energy instead into pulling the two chairs from behind the counter out in front so he and Jay could sit facing each other. Mike gestured to one of the chairs for Jay to take it, and he did, glancing down and licking over his teeth again in the process. Mike sat down in the opposite chair, not sure why he was feeling on edge. 

“Oh, sorry,” Mike said, getting up. “I forgot to print your resumé out before you got here—“

“I brought a copy,” Jay said, fishing a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handing it to Mike. He took it and sat back down, smoothing it out with exaggerated motions on his leg.

“Very prepared, nice.”

“Thanks,” Jay muttered, his face reddening for some reason. Mike’s first instinct was to make it do that again. Instead he glanced down at the resumé as though he needed to look at it. There’d been no customers that day, and in his boredom he’d read Jay’s resumé approximately 20 times that morning. At that point he knew every job experience and subsequent bullet point by heart.

“So, _Jay_ ,” Mike said, dragging out his name in a way that made Jay’s nose twitch with annoyance. Mike smirked at him and continued on. “What made you want to work at Lightning Fast VCR Repair?”

Jay knit his eyebrows in concentration and ran his right hand up his left arm. Mike took a mental note that his hands were small. 

“Well,” Jay said after a few seconds of deliberation. “I like movies, a lot. I actually, um, I went to film school for a little bit, but I didn’t get a degree so it’s not on there.” He pointed at the resumé and continued. “So there’s that. And I like building things, repairing things, I’m good at that kind of stuff. And I have a decent amount of retail experience. So. I just thought that, you know, this place would be a good combination of, uh. All that.” 

Jay winced a little at Mike when he was done, and Mike had wanted to ask him why the hell he was so nervous about interviewing for an Assistant Manager position at a shop nobody went to. Instead he looked back down at the sheet of paper in his hand and asked the only other question corporate might raise a red flag about, something he was curious about himself.

“Your last job on here is from 2006. Is there, like, a reason you didn’t work last year or something?”

Something flashed in Jay’s eyes when Mike asked that question, something angry and determined that made Mike want to lean in. He caught himself in time, keeping his back pressed to the chair.

“I worked in an office,” Jay said cooly, clearly putting great effort into trying to make his voice sound calm. “But it wasn’t relevant work experience. So I didn’t include it.”

“Ok,” Mike said, not totally convinced that this was the sole reason this supposed office job was omitted, wanting to hire him just so he could break him down until he got a real answer. “Corporate just likes to call the last place of employment for references before hiring so—“

“They can call the Best Buy then.” Jay snapped. His cheeks colored after his outburst, and Mike had to suppress a laugh. “They, um, it’ll be better references anyway. For this kind of job.” Jay was back to being mumbly and awkward.

“That’s fair,” Mike said, folding the resumé back up again and putting it in his shirt pocket. The line about corporate calling for references had been a lie anyway. Mike had just said it in the hopes Jay would divulge in his secret office job a little more. But the time for that would come later.

“Well, you’re hired, if you want it.” Mike said, getting up to put his chair back. Jay jerked in his seat a little bit, looking surprised.

“Really? Just like that?”

“Pretty much. I just have to tell corporate and they’ll send over some bullshit for you to sign. Then you’ll officially be a Lightning Fast VCR Repair employee. Congratulations.”

“Don’t they have to call my last place of employment?” Jay asked, and Mike was stunned. Jay was even sharper than he anticipated. 

“Uh, maybe. They might expedite the process because they need this position filled quick.”

“Ok,” Jay said, looking like he didn’t believe Mike. Mike didn’t believe him about the office job omission, so they were even. 

“Ok,” Mike said back, and they stared at each other for a few seconds. Holding Jay’s eye contact so directly made Mike want to shiver, so he looked away. “I’ll email corporate and they’ll send the paperwork over to you. There’s a shirt in the back you can wear, it’ll probably be too big but it takes forever to get new uniforms. You’re probably gonna want to wash it anyway.” Jay was standing now, so Mike took his chair back and put it behind the desk. “You don’t have to stay since you’re not, like, technically an employee yet.”

“No, I’ll stay,” Jay said, and Mike ducked his head behind the computer to hide his look of relief that he wouldn’t have to spend another shift alone. “Actually, um, do you have a bathroom?”

“Back there, it’s the first door you’ll see on the right,” Mike said, pointing at the backroom, past the shelf full of mixed up instruction manuals and VHS tapes that had been rescued from their crammed VCR prison. “It’s for employees only, so you’re lucky I hired you.”

“You know,” Jay said, shimmying past Mike to make his way around the desk “I never technically said I accepted your offer.”

“Well,” Mike said, leaning against the doorframe to the backroom to block Jay’s entrance. “You only get to use it if you accept.”

“Guess I have no choice,” Jay replied, deadpan, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smirk. Mike suddenly felt like his face was getting warm as Jay peered up at him, and he swore he saw something wicked sparkle in Jay’s eyes. He moved out of the door frame before he said or did anything weird.

He sat in the chair behind the computer waiting for Jay to be done with the bathroom. He felt almost lightheaded, but it wasn’t quite that. It was something better, a nice thing that made his gut fizz and his heart beat in a sort of soothing pump. It must have just been the excitement of having someone to talk to, which was odd, because Mike had never delighted in meeting new people before. Quite the opposite—he normally avoided it. But this was different. He’d been at the shop alone for only a week, but it had been near torturous. The last guy hadn’t been much of a conversationalist, and in fact had annoyed Mike more often than not, but it was still nice to clock into work and know you’d interact with at least one other person that day. Plus Jay felt…different. It was a ridiculous feeling to have after only thirty minutes knowing each other, but Mike couldn’t shake it, and he had a knack for first impressions. He’d clocked Rich as a friend for the long haul after about five minutes of discussion during high school, and Rich was still his closest, and really only, friend. He had a feeling Jay would be the same.

Jay came back from the bathroom, the work shirt balled up in his hands, and took the seat next to Mike. Sitting down the height difference wasn’t as noticeable, though Mike still had to peer down at him a bit, Jay shifting in his seat like he wanted to be told what to do but didn’t want to ask for direction outright. 

“I emailed corporate about hiring you. I’ll need to fax over your license and stuff, and once you’re approved they’ll send over some papers to sign.”

Jay just nodded and fished his wallet out from his jeans. The stupid chains on his pants jangled as he did, and Mike didn’t bother hiding his smirk. Jay handed his license over to Mike, his face unchanged, either not noticing Mike’s smile was meant to mock him or not caring.

“You should probably teach me how to use the fax machine.”

Mike guffawed at Jay giving him an order. He was so strange, unassuming and almost timid one minute, then demanding the next. Already Mike wanted to break him open and see all the little parts inside.

“I guess, if you’re so goddam eager to learn,” Mike said, taking them to the backroom where the printer sat. It was collecting dust, shoved into a corner and long forgotten. “You’re barely gonna use it, I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve used it since I started.”

Jay just nodded, watching as Mike smashed some buttons to bypass a login that was never properly set up to get to the fax screen. 

“How long have you worked here?” Jay asked, watching as Mike lifted the cover to scan Jay’s license.

“Two years.”

“Mm,” Jay hummed, and Mike thought he would just leave it at that until he continued with “Why’d the last guy leave?”

“He worked part-time as a bouncer for some nearby clubs and started getting more hours during the holidays. He got annoyed that he’d have to wake up to come here after getting home at four in the morning, so he quit.”

“Just like that?”

“Yeah.” Mike didn’t want to get into how shitty corporate was, how useless HR would be if anyone bothered filing a complaint or made demands for a raise or better benefits, afraid he’d scare Jay off.

“What was his name?”

“Butch.”

“Really?” Jay’s nose was wrinkled when Mike handed his license back to him, the fax finally sent through. He was vaguely aware that he hadn’t actually walked Jay through how to work it but didn’t care enough to point this out to Jay himself. Distantly he felt almost giddy, like Jay hadn’t actually wanted to learn this dumb machine, had just wanted an excuse to stick to Mike’s side. Mike shoved this thought down. Jay barely knew him.

“Yeah, really, why?”

“I don’t know, that’s just such a…weird name. Was he actually butch?”

“Yeah, he was.” Butch had actually kind of intimidated Mike, and it made perfect sense that clubs clamored to have him as their bouncer. He was well over six feet tall, possibly pushing seven feet, with a bald head and mean resting face. In reality he was a mostly quiet guy who couldn’t be bothered to offer much insight on anything. Still, there was something about him that put Mike on edge, and in the two years of working together he’d never told Butch about his supernatural strength, lest Butch demand Mike fight him to prove his powers. Mike hated fighting when he was sober, and felt guilty about dumb bar fights he got into when they were over. 

“That’s good, then. Would suck to have a name like ‘Butch’ and be like short or something.” Jay’s face flushed after saying this, like he’d called attention to the fact that was not at all butch and never would be, and glared when Mike smirked at him.

“Yeah, guess that worked out for him.”

Back at the front of the shop Mike watched Jay out of the corner of his eye, trying not to outright stare. Jay sat mostly still, fidgeting a little but otherwise making no effort to move. After a few minutes it started to feel awkward, just sitting there with nothing to do.

“So you like movies.” Mike said, more a statement than a question.

“Yeah. Like I said, I tried going to film school for a little bit.”

“Why’d you drop out?”

“All the classes were focused more on interpreting feelings or other bullshit instead of, like, the actual technical stuff, and I hate that shit. And when I left I didn’t feel like trying to go to another school in the hopes that it wouldn’t just be the same thing.”

“Oh.” Mike was pretty impressed by this answer. He’d gone to film school himself, getting a degree and everything despite not loving the program, too afraid of what would happen if he sought out something different when he’d had his mind set on filmmaking for so long. 

“So what are your favorite movies?” Mike asked when Jay continued to say nothing.

“Uh, let me think. I guess…Escape From New York is definitely up there—what?” Jay asked, glaring at Mike when Mike snorted at his answer.

“That movie’s so _boring_.”

“Fu—screw you, no it’s not!” Jay’s face heated and his voice cracked a little in seemingly authentic rage. The fizz in Mike’s stomach from earlier returned even stronger, and he felt flushed with excitement at the thought of pushing Jay’s buttons even more.

“Yes it is, all Carpenter movies are boring as shit.”

“Are you an idiot? Just because it’s not full of, like, over the top stupid explosions or drawn out fight scenes every five minutes—“

“It’s an action movie!”

“It’s subtle!”

“Fuck subtle, I want action!”

They argued about movies for the rest of the shift, blissfully not interrupted with any phone calls or customers. The only mild interruption was corporate emailing over Jay’s work papers, which Mike printed out and faxed over after Jay signed them, continuing to yell at him from the backroom as he did so. Before Mike knew it it was five o’clock, and he had to punch out or risk getting a call from corporate bitching about unapproved overtime.

“Do you drink?” Mike asked as they put their coats on, not willing to leave Jay’s presence yet.

“Uh, sometimes. Why?”

“Come get a drink with me, there’s a good bar just down the road. C’mon,” Mike said when Jay just stood there, hesitating. “I need a good drinking buddy, even if it’s one with a lame taste in movies.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek after saying this, embarrassed that he’d been too desperate or revealing or something. But Jay smiled, a soft thing that reached his eyes, and said “Sure,” following Mike out to the parking lot.

The bar wasn’t actually that good, a dive that housed a local crowd of gruff blue collar guys and embattled elderly men who did little more than grunt over their pint glasses. Jay didn’t seem to mind, taking a seat next to Mike at the bar and ordering the same beer as him. Mike was a regular and had a running tab that the owner bugged him about paying off once a month. He included Jay’s drinks on it for that night, feeling generous.

“To Lightning Fast’s newest victim,” Mike said, raising his glass when they were a few beers in and their conversation had lulled.

“Here here,” Jay said, clinking his glass against Mike’s and taking a giant sip. Mike took a smaller one, observing Jay from over the rim of his glass. Jay was a lot looser with some alcohol in him, even more animated about defending precious arthouse bullcrap and throwing in random Italian horror movies that Mike had never heard of, part of a genre whose name he couldn’t pronounce. They had at least come to the agreement that they both had a soft spot for terrible B-movies, and Mike was already plotting ways to get Jay over to his apartment and watch through his collection together.

“’S it really that bad?” Jay asked as they waited for their next round of drinks, the bar a little bit busier now.

“Lightning Fast?” Sort of. “Nah. Most of the repairs that come in are easy fixes, and it’s easy to fudge the numbers so you get paid more. Just don’t piss off corporate and you’re good.” Mike was getting drunk, his words slurring and vision blurring. He squinted his eyes to focus on Jay, who was looking pretty drunk himself.

“Tha’s fair,” Jay said, slurring even worse than Mike. “Corporate ’s always the fucking worst, you have to, like, sell your soul t’be one of them.”

 _Is that why you left your office job?_ Mike wanted to ask, but wasn’t drunk enough to push it. Instead he lifted his almost empty glass to cheers Jay again, and Jay laughed hard, clinking them together.

Mike stopped drinking long enough to sober up and take them home, letting Jay get two more beers in the meantime. By the time Mike’s head felt less clouded it was late, and Jay had to practically hold Mike’s arm to make it to the door, stumbling over his own feet on the way to the parking lot.

“I’ll drop you off at your place, just tell me how to get there,” Mike said as they buckled into the car. He blasted the heat once the engine got going, looking over at Jay to see he had a panicked look on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying…shit. I’m trying to remember how to get to my apartment from here…fuck, I took a bus this morning. I’m sorry.” He had his face buried in his hands as he apologized.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mike said, almost alarmed at how apologetic Jay was getting. He seemed really drunk. Mike wanted to offer that Jay stay at his place for the night, but it seemed too soon, too familiar or weird or something. 

“Ok,” Jay said, lifting his head up. “Ok, I think I remember now. S…sorry, I. Normally don’t get this drunk.

“It’s ok,” Mike said, not wanting to get into how he often got far drunker and was borderline alcoholic, instead just followed Jay’s directions out of the parking lot and to his apartment. He pulled up to the curb of the apartment complex, Jay insisting he didn’t need to go all the way around back to go into the parking lot.

“You want me to walk you in?” Mike asked, feeling like he was failing at some mission granted to him from a higher power by not escorting Jay to his door.

Jay just scoffed and undid his seatbelt. “No, ‘m fine.”

“Ok. Uh, you’re probably gonna be pretty hungover, so you don’t have to worry about coming in tomorrow since you technically haven’t started yet. In fact,” Mike said, his generosity from earlier still flowing through him. “Tomorrow’s Thursday, so you don’t have to start until next Monday if you want.”

Jay groaned, and Mike couldn’t see very clearly with just the dim street lights offering visual assistance, but he swore Jay was blushing. “You’re probably right about tomorrow,” Jay said, sounding almost bitter, like he hated admitting Mike was right. “But I’ll be in Friday.”

“Ok,” Mike said, embarrassed by how his spirits had lifted at hearing that. “See you Friday, then.”

“Yup. Thanks for the ride home.”

Jay got out of the car and shut the door before Mike could say anything more. He watched Jay for as long as he could before he was out of sight completely, lingering for a minute more before driving off. He got back to his place and locked the door, stripping down to his boxers before crawling into bed, not bothering to brush his teeth. He’d feel like shit in the morning, but he didn’t care, something greater than a beer buzz settling inside of him and carrying him off to sleep, a sort of instinctual feeling that he had something great at last.

***

Jay did come back in that Friday, even calling the Thursday he stayed home to “double check shop hours”, and ever since had been inseparable from Mike’s side. Most mornings he got to the shop before Mike, Mike having made him a key after the fourth day in a row of this when he sensed it was going to be a pattern. It made Mike happier than he cared to admit when he walked through the front door and saw Jay already behind the counter, brewing a pot of coffee or thumbing through a magazine, always looking up when the bell announced Mike’s arrival to give him a little smile. Mike was technically Jay’s manager but only lorded this over him when he wanted Jay to do work he didn’t give a shit about, knowing Jay would always do it. Otherwise they would just sit and talk about nothing all day, their meandering, stupid conversations easily cutting through what otherwise would have been a tedious eight hour slog. Sometimes they would go on an extended lunch break to see a movie, neither of them wanting to deal with rowdy late night crowds and not fearful enough of corporate catching them. After work they would either go to one of their apartment’s to watch bad movies or go back to that same bar, Jay never getting as drunk as he had that first night but still a reliable drinking partner. After a week of Mike staying sober enough to drive them home, Jay picked up on the fact that this was not Mike’s preferred style of drinking, and offered to take Mike’s car and pick him up in the morning. Mike accepted this offer, which was fairly insane, because he was territorial over his car no matter how big a piece of shit it was. But there was something about Jay that made Mike trust him instantly, even going so far as to introduce him to Rich, which was the closest equivalent Mike had to introducing someone to family. They bonded almost comically fast, which Mike was proud of to an embarrassing degree. He liked Jay, trusted him, and had no reservations telling him about anything, except his biggest thing.

He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t make himself tell Jay about his powers when he trusted Jay with everything else, except that this was the biggest thing about Mike, the thing so few people knew, and if Jay knew about it and turned on him it would crush him beyond comprehension. He needed a sign, something from a higher power to let him know letting Jay in on his biggest secret would only make them closer and not have Jay turn him in to the authorities for being a person with enhanced abilities, a danger to society. Jay was cool about pretty much everything, from Mike’s arguing to disgustingly graphic horror movies, but this was different. It was the most important thing about Mike, and he’d rather keep it from Jay and be left wondering what his opinion was than tell him and risk being betrayed. Sometimes he wanted to ask Rich if he had foreseen Mike telling Jay and the subsequent reaction, but he was afraid Rich would either have bad news or pester Mike into telling him why it was so important for Jay to know. The reasoning made sense in Mike’s head, but he knew himself, and knew he wouldn’t have the words to explain why the fuck this was so important to him.

Winter thawed slowly to spring, and by May Mike still had not divulged his powers secret to Jay. As a result he was on a near constant edge in Jay’s presence, his mouth tingling and tasting of metal from the sheer effort it took not to blurt it out to Jay over a repair job or while checking the daily work log. 

Jay either didn’t notice how on edge Mike was or didn’t care, going about their days like normal, Mike’s assessment and opinion of him otherwise never faltering. He felt guilty almost, like his unwillingness to tell Jay meant he didn’t deserve to have him as a friend. 

On the Friday before Memorial Day weekend Mike was more on edge than ever, stressed at the continuous debate within himself about finally telling Jay of his strength, and that the holiday weekend might mean that Jay had plans that would prevent Mike from seeing him for three whole days. Barely an hour into the shift he was sweating under his work shirt, the flimsy fan they had whirring on the desk doing nothing to stop the overheated, sickly feeling building inside him.

“Got any plans this weekend?” He asked Jay about an hour into the shift, trying to even his voice out as much as possible.

Jay shrugged. “I think I’m going to Josh’s on Sunday for some barbecue, but that’s it. You can come if you want.”

Mike wrinkled his nose. He’d met Josh once at some larger get-together of Jay’s friends that Jay had convinced Mike to go to, and he wasn’t crazy about the guy. He seemed to have all the qualities about Jay that annoyed Mike the most, with none of Jay’s charm. Possibly the charm was an invention of Mike’s psyche, but this logic didn’t make Josh appeal to him any more.

“Uh, maybe I’ll stop by. You’re not doing anything with your family?”

Mike regretted the question as soon as it left his mouth. Neither of them talked about their family’s, leaving it on an undiscussed “Do Not Mention” list between the two of them, like Jay’s stint at his mysterious office job and Mike’s super strength, though Jay wouldn’t know to ask about that.

Jay took in a sharp breath but otherwise kept his face unchanged. “Nope. You doing anything this weekend? Seeing any family?”

“I don’t even know where any of my family is to see them,” Mike said, which was mostly true. He was vaguely aware that his sister lived out in the Nevada desert, though he didn’t have an address or even a town name. The comment physically relaxed Jay, who loosened his posture to sink further back into his seat. Mike also swore he saw a small smile.

They left the topic of family undiscussed until a few hours later, when Jay changed the trajectory of Mike’s entire life by dropping a screwdriver.

“Shit!” Jay yelled, the screwdriver bouncing off the table and rolling at an almost bizarre speed into the backroom, where it disappeared under the refrigerator. Mike watched this unfold with amusement, always taking a sick pleasure when Jay messed something up and got flustered.

“Goddammit,” Jay muttered, going into the backroom to lay on the floor and stick his arm under the fridge. Mike watched him from his stool, snorting as Jay made tiny little grunts as if it would compel the screwdriver to roll a couple inches closer into Jay’s reach.

“Mike,” Jay whined, still on the floor. “Help. I can’t reach this fucking thing.”

As Mike got off his stool, something shifted inside him. Maybe it was a higher power, finally coming down and settling into Mike’s soul to guide him on his journey. Maybe the image of Jay whining he needed Mike’s help moved something in Mike that made him want to show Jay just how helpful and protective he could be. Maybe it was the thought of the holiday weekend and their almost vulnerable conversation from earlier compelling Mike to show every inch of himself to Jay, leaving it all on display. Whatever it was, something instinctive inside of Mike took over. He walked into the backroom and without a moment’s hesitation lifted the fridge high into the air, keeping it straight so as to not jostle any of the food inside.

“Go on,” Mike said cooly as Jay stared at him dumbstruck. “Pick up the screwdriver.”

Jay stared at Mike for a few more seconds, unblinking, until he snapped out of it enough to grab the screwdriver and scoot out of the way. Mike waited until Jay was done moving to gently place the refrigerator down, as though it were as light as a coffee mug , something that could be picked up and put down with ease.

“It’s always annoying when things get stuck under there,” Mike said as he turned to Jay, who was still kneeling on the floor for some reason. Seeing him in that position put an insane thought in Mike’s head, who was still acting on instinct, which was why he walked over to Jay and lifted him up with one hand onto his feet. Jay sputtered in Mike’s face, from amusement or confusion he couldn’t tell. Possibly a combination of the two, his brain trying desperately to piece what he just witnessed together.

“Well,” Mike said, clapping his hands together too forcefully, his common sense crashing back into him, fear coursing through his veins. “Back to work.”

Jay continued standing where Mike had placed him, frozen, and Mike turned his back to him to walk to the desk, feeling his face heat up and his stomach churn in a way that was dangerously queasy. _Shit. Fucking goddam shit._ He’d done it, he’d fucking done it. He’d blown everything, freaked Jay the fuck out so bad that he’d probably go running out of the shop and alert the first person he saw that there was a dangerous man with the power to crush skulls working at the VCR Repair Shop—

“Refrigerators are heavy,” Jay said, cutting through Mike’s worries and stopping his thoughts dead in its tracks. Mike hovered over his chair, suddenly unable to move, unsure if he wanted to laugh or cry. The comment had been so stupid and Jay’s voice so small it was almost childlike. Mike steadied himself on the back of the chair, using what was left of his consciousness to not dent it with his fingers.

“That fridge isn’t too heavy,” Mike said, not knowing where the hell he was going with that remark, with any of this. “Try lifting it yourself, you’ll see.”

“I can’t even get my arms around it,” Jay said, and Mike broke. His laughter felt punched out of him, forceful and hard, and he couldn’t stop. He had a maniacal sounding laugh when he got into hysterics like this, and when he turned around and saw the freaked out look on Jay’s face he hoped it was about the laugh and nothing more, like the freak of nature act he just witnessed. Jay started laughing too, a look of disbelief on his face, and they both laughed harder and harder until they were barely able to stand, hunched over and gasping for breath. Mike slowly made his way back toward Jay, still chuckling, unsure what the fuck was gonna happen now. Jay was still giggling a little, the light of laughter still in his eyes, but his stiff posture made it seem like he was as nervous as Mike as to where they would go from here.

It seemed to last for an eternity, the moment in time where Mike peered down into Jay’s fretful face, mirroring the anxiousness ten times over in his own, part of him wanting to pick Jay up and run away to god knew where, another part of him wanting to bolt out the door, never having to deal with the fallout. He wrestled with what to do, his mind coming up with nothing useful, instead instructing his heart to beat out of his chest and pump fear throughout every inch of him. It was Jay who made the first move, Jay who saved them from any awkwardness of what Mike had done. Mike would always remember that with bitter fondness, how Jay had seen how frightened he was and rescued him from it.

“Have I ever told you about my siblings,” Jay said, whispering, his voice so quiet Mike had to lean in to hear him.

“No,” Mike said, not stating the obvious, that they never discussed those sorts of things.

“Do you know who my father is?”

Mike shook his head. He wasn’t sure where Jay was going, just grateful he was taking them somewhere, anywhere.

“ _Bauman Enterprises_? You ever heard of it? It’s mostly Chicago and Illinois-based, but he does some work up here too.”

“Maybe?” Mike said. The name sounded vaguely familiar, though he had no idea why.

“It’s—here, I’ll show you.”

For a moment Mike swore Jay was going to take his hand. Instead Jay just walked back to the desk, Mike following wordlessly behind him. Jay took the seat behind the computer, the one that normally belonged to Mike, opening up a web browser. Mike took the seat that was usually Jay’s, unable to tear his eyes from Jay’s face even as Jay gestured to the monitor.

“Does that logo look familiar?”

Mike looked at the screen and nodded. It was a simple logo, the word _Bauman_ in blue right above the word _Enterprises_ in silver, both contained in a black oval. He’d seen it many times around Milwaukee, plastered outside construction sites. 

“Your dad runs a construction company?”

“Sort of. It’s construction, real estate, architecture, infrastructure—“

“Your dad’s a busy guy.”

“Yeah,” Jay said, still staring at the screen, not looking at Mike. They were quiet for a few minutes, Jay lost in thought, Mike wanting to know what the hell any of this had to do with his refrigerator lifting stunt but not wanting to rush Jay into wherever this was going.

“We were poor,” Jay said, looking up to lock eyes with Mike, who didn’t dare so much as blink while Jay spoke to him. “Growing up, my family was poor. We lived in a farmhouse in Illinois, inherited from my mom’s dad. Neither of my parents wanted to move there, but they didn’t have any luck finding better jobs. So for a while we just grew up in this big house, barely able to put food on the table.”

Jay swallowed hard. Mike wanted to reach out and touch him, assure him he wouldn’t regret telling Mike any of this, but instead stayed still.

“I’m the oldest. My brother was born two years after me, then my sister a year after him. By the time I was ten my dad was sick of everything, sick of being poor, sick of my mom, sick of us, so he left. Sort of. He got some job in the city, and we would stay in his shitty apartment like once a month, and some holidays. But for the most part we lived with our mom, on the farm.”

Jay blinked and snapped his head forward. Mike continued to stay still.

“Until…until…when I was thirteen…my brother was like twelve and my sister was eleven…it happened at the same time for them, I always thought that was so weird. One right after the other, not even a day apart…”

Mike realized suddenly what Jay was saying but still didn’t dare move or speak.

“My brother one day complained that I was talking too loud and saying weird shit, and I got into a huge fight with him, ‘cause I hadn’t said anything to him all day and I was kind of sensitive about saying weird stuff sometimes…whatever. So my brother kept insisting that I was talking too loud, and I said I wasn’t, so we went looking for my sister to settle the argument, ‘cause she had been with both of us that day. Only…only we couldn’t find her. So we went running all over the house, freaked out, not wanting our mom to know we lost her, only how could we lose her, she was with us all fucking day. And one of us…I don’t remember who, but one of us went into her room for like the third time and realized there was a shirt on her bed like, sitting upright, but there was no head inside. And there were a pair of jeans attached, but no feet sticking out of them. So we start screaming, thinking, I don’t know, that she got fucking decapitated or some shit and still able to sit up somehow. And we just hear her screaming ‘What, what, what’s wrong?’, and her voice was coming from the bed.”

Jay scrubbed his hands over his face. Mike’s heart was in his throat, resisting the urge to reach out and hug Jay, knowing that would just make him more upset.

“That was the day we realized. We still didn’t know how, ‘cause neither of our parents have any powers, but they did. My sister eventually turned visible again after we all stopped freaking out, and later that night my brother realized he wasn’t hearing me talk, he was reading my mind.”

Mike stopped himself from making some stupid joke about how freaked out he would have been if his sister would’ve been able to read his teenage mind. Jay needed to let this all out, at once, or he’d never speak of it again.

“So we realized they had powers and started freaking out because, like, where the hell did we go from there? We couldn’t tell anyone or they’d be taken away to wherever they take people who get caught using their, uh…enhanced abilities.” Mike reached over as cautiously as he could to point the fan more towards Jay, who had started sweating through his clothes. He also started talking a lot faster.

“The next day we told our mom, who also didn’t know what the fuck to do, so she called Dad, who’s an asshole but also knows a lot of people and probably knew somebody who knew somebody who could help. And he took it…well. Like, scary well. Apparently one of his cousin’s had laser vision or some shit, so he had my mom send my brother and sister to his place for a week so they could meet him and learn how to, like, control themselves or whatever.” Jay took a shuddery breath. “And that’s when things started to get…weird.

“Apparently my dad used to be part of senior management at some construction company, before we were born, but got caught in some scandal and lost all our money in the lawsuit, which is why we were so poor and had to live on my grandpa’s old farm. I don’t know, my mom hates talking about it and my dad would only bring it up when he got drunk and, like, ramble a bunch of bullshit. But he always wanted to get back into the business, so after he left my mom he was able to weasel his way into a low-level position at a similar company. He had that position for like a year, and then all of a sudden he got a _huge_ promotion from like, out of nowhere, I just remember hearing my mom rant about it on the phone with her friends how it seemed super sketchy. And he moved out of his shit apartment into this really nice house in the suburbs with like a gate and a pool and everything. And my brother and sister had been going to his place like every weekend, sometimes even during the week, missing school, and when I asked them what they were doing with Dad all the time they would just shrug and say he took them on boring work meetings. And when I went with them for my like, monthly visit, he didn’t seem to give a shit that I was there and would just take one of them out with him and leave me home to look after the other one. And he just kept getting promoted faster and faster, until he was suddenly, like, the CEO of this company after not even two years.” Jay stared straight ahead, not looking at Mike or moving much, still sweating through his uniform. Mike wanted to fan him off with a magazine on the counter but found it hard to move himself.

“So this goes on for a few years, as CEO the company explodes in business under him, they were getting jobs that were apparently, like, impossible to get just a couple years earlier. I didn’t really think anything of it, or care, ‘cause at that point I sorta…not hated him, but I hated the way he treated me, like I was the mistake kid while my siblings were these perfect angels. And it made me mad at them too, ‘cause they started taking his side on everything and moved in with him and barely paid attention to me, just like he did. And my mom was all worked up about how weird it was how quickly he rose to the top, and upset that my brother and sister didn’t live with us anymore, so. By the time I graduated high school I couldn’t wait to go to college and just be free from all of them. But then that blew up in my face, so I dropped out and got some boring retail jobs and lived in dumpy apartments with a bunch of roommates because I couldn’t afford anything better but I didn’t want to move back home, to either of them.”

Jay looked petrified now, eyes glossed over, gnawing on his bottom lip while rubbing his right hand up and down his left arm, thumbing with the sleeve of his shirt. Still Mike didn’t move. Jay looked like a wild animal, cornered and scared and alone. Yet he continued on.

“After a couple years of retail jobs I got a call from my dad, who I barely talked to anymore. I still talked to my mom, ‘cause like, I wasn’t mad at her or anything, not like I was at the rest of them, I just didn’t feel like being around her because she just brought them up all the time and it made me feel like shit. So she kind of knew how broke I was and I guess told my dad, who felt bad about how neglected I was, or whatever, ‘cause he offered me an office job at his company. And that’s…that’s when I found out what had been going on the whole time, how he got so successful so quick, ‘cause my dad started letting me in on all the shit he’d been up to, and my brother and sister started telling me shit too, I guess they felt like, bad that they’d kept me in the dark for years and my dad’s company was getting bigger and bigger and he wanted ‘people he could trust’ on the inside.” Jay added the last part in scare quotes, a look of fury flashing across his face, his nose twitching.

“Apparently…for years, after he found out about my brother and sister and had them learn how to control their shit from his cousin…he would use them to bla…blackmail people.”

Jay had trembled after he said that, licking over his lips and teeth like he wanted to shove the words back into his mouth, swallow them back down and pretend Mike hadn’t heard what he just said. Mike was speechless beside him, rapt with attention and the need to show Jay that he could talk to Mike on his terms.

“It started out…after a couples months, when they got good enough that my sister wouldn’t just disappear and appear at random, or my brother wouldn’t just hear everyone’s thoughts in one loud buzz, and could, like, focus in on one person or just shut it off altogether…my father would take them on his ‘business meetings’, which were really just excuse for my brother to read his coworkers minds to see if they were hiding anything, or for my sister to hide around them after they thought she and my dad had left to hear if they discussed anything they didn’t want him hearing. So he took this information and would, like, report it to HR, or hint at them that they knew shit they wouldn’t want out there, until everyone at the company, was like, afraid of him, and kept getting promoted and getting the people above him out of his way until he was appointed CEO.

“And then,” Jay said, his voice breaking a little like he wanted to cry or scream or find a way to stop talking and pretend he couldn’t speak of these things. “And then once he became CEO he used my siblings to blackmail local politicians and contractors and shit, so no one would get in his way. He built huge properties on land that was supposed to be protected, he took over construction on this important bridge that had been promised to another company. He just…bulldozed over other people. And my siblings didn’t see anything wrong with it, ‘cause they were just kids when this all started, and he’s, like, brainwashed them into not seeing any of this as a big deal.” Jay was talking fast again, like he couldn’t wait to get this all over with. “And my job was really easy, just filing away different contracts and keeping his schedule in order, like a glorified secretary or something. But he started telling me all this shit, and my brother and sister would like laugh about it with me like ‘Oh, here’s this embarrassing thing Council Member So-and-So doesn’t want leaked’, shit like that, and after a couple months I started digging around the legal department and HR and saw all the shit they had lined up to keep my dad protected, so no one would suspect why he suddenly had this like, monopoly on construction in Illinois, or big projects in Milwaukee that didn’t really make sense for a Chicago-based company to have.” Jay took a deep breath, closed his eyes tight like he could try to erase whatever bad shit he was remembering. 

“Anyway. Some of the more fine-point legal stuff was confusing, but using my brother and sister to blackmail people so he could have the stupid fucking company he always wanted just pissed me off. So I quit and moved out of the area completely. And that’s why I came here.” Jay’s voice was so soft at the last part, a broken little thing, and Mike had to stop himself from the insane impulse that washed over him to scoop Jay into his arms. Instead he got up to get Jay a cup of water from the cooler at the front of the shop. Jay gave him a meager little smile when Mike handed the styrofoam cup over to him, draining it in one gulp, wincing a little.

“I think the thing that pissed me off most,” Jay said, almost to himself as Mike took the cup back from him to get a refill. “Is that he was using their powers for such a selfish fucking thing. Like…like their powers are illegal, you know…you definitely know, how dangerous it is, and if they got caught yeah he’d be in trouble, but they’d be thrown into a fucking institution or something. And he could use that risk to maybe make like real change, to make the government pass a law about not rounding up people with powers instead of just spying on people so he can get dibs on building fucking luxury condos or whatever.”

Jay drank the refill in one gulp again and slumped into his seat. He looked exhausted and miserable, and for a moment Mike wanted to cry.

“So. Anyway. That’s why I left the office job and kept it off my resumé. And that’s why I don’t care that you have powers, because, like…I know you’re not a shithead with them.”

Mike’s throat closed up when Jay said that, and he had to do a few fast blinks to keep from embarrassingly crying in front of him. There was of course no real way for Jay to know that, except that Jay trusted him, and that along with the emotional confession Jay had just given a speech on made Mike want to share something sacred with him in return. Showing him his super strength suddenly didn’t feel like enough.

“So you and your parents don’t have any powers?” Mike asked as he made his way back around the desk, trying to shift his chair closer to Jay’s without Jay realizing. Jay shook his head, still slumped in his char. Mike wanted to get back up and flip the sign to ‘Closed’, but it’s been such a slow week, and someone from corporate might make a surprise visit and write them up for closing up too early, so he stays at Jay’s side. His throat gets a little thicker as he thinks about what he’s about to tell Jay.

“It’s weird how that works out. Like it’s sort of genetic but also random.”

“Mhm,” Jay hummed, his eyes narrowing in what looked like annoyance. Mike hastened to get to the point.

“Yeah, like, in my family there’s me, obviously, but my sister doesn’t have any. And neither does my dad. But my mom did.”

Jay finally looked over at Mike, some of his tension melting away. Mike feels like he’s absorbed it from him. He never talks about his mother, even to Rich, who sort of watched Mike go through everything in real time. But already Mike just wants to tell Jay everything, reveal himself to him on a skeletal level. For every inch Jay shows him, Mike wants to give back two. This had never been true of any other person, but in that moment it had felt so right.

“Yeah my dad…he didn’t have any, and I think he kind of resented my mom for having them. Or he thought she was careless, because she used to do, like, vigilante justice when she was younger, but then she had my sister and figured, ok, time to move on and raise a family or something.” Mike felt himself babbling, already somewhat regretting this. He only thought about his mom on nights when he couldn’t sleep, alone in his apartment and feeling sorry for himself. Thinking about her any more than that would drive him insane.

“What could she do?” Jay asked, his voice still soft but his eyes brightening with curiosity, and Mike wanted to reach over to hug him.

“She could fly,” Mike said. He cleared his throat, was on dangerous territory to start crying when he talked about her powers. “When I was little—I guess she did this for my sister too, but she’s older than me and was too big to do it by the time I could remember—anyway when I was little, late at night, my mom would take me and drive us to a really tall hill, or an abandoned field, somewhere quiet and secluded. And then she’d pick me up—“ Mike coughed into his fist to hide the fact that his throat was closing up. Jay just stared at him with the same rapt attention Mike had had when Jay was talking. “She’d pick me up and carry me into the air. Sometimes she’d just fly as high as a tree, just so we could feel like a nice night breeze. But she had this special like carrier holster thing, right, and it was a pain in the ass and probably heavy for her even when I was a toddler. But some nights she’d put it on, and I’d climb in, and then she’d fly super high, so high I swore we’d touch the clouds, and we’d look down and see all of Milwaukee below us, all the lights on the buildings and houses. It made everything seem so small. A couple times we even drove all the way down to Chicago to, like, compare the two. And it was just…she had to stop by the time I was like five or six, because I was getting too heavy for her and she got nervous taking me up that high. But I can still remember what the city looks like from way up there.” 

Mike was looking down at the desk by this point, afraid to look at Jay when he talked about this. He wanted to go on, about how no matter how high up they flew he always felt so safe wrapped in his mother’s arms, how she’d hold him tight even when he was in the holster and she didn’t really need to, just to make sure he was still there and safe. He was nearly thirty now, and yet never in his life had he felt as loved as he did when he was three or four years old, hugged close to his mother as she shared her powers with him. She would point below them, telling him about where all the important and famous buildings were and what their house looked like from so high up. On really late nights when she was feeling more bold she would hover him over Lake Michigan and let him pretend like he could run on the water, laughing with him as he giggled and splashed at the water with his feet, overcome with how much fun he was having, his little body almost unable to contain its joy, his mother’s warm laughter above him feeling like a suit of armor. If he mentioned any of this to Jay he would break down completely, unable to finish, so pressed on to other things.

“When I was five she started noticing I was able to pick stuff up that should’ve been way too heavy for me, and she told me I had powers too. But I couldn’t show off in front of other people, because they wouldn’t understand, and I would get in trouble. The only time we used them anywhere outside our house is when we visited my mom’s parents, ‘cause they had this big plot of land out in the country with no neighbors, so for fun I’d throw something way high in the air and she’d jump up to catch it.” 

Mike got up abruptly, startling Jay, and went back over to the cooler, downing three cups of water before continuing. “My dad hated that my mom and I had powers. He always claimed it was because he was worried about our safety, but I think…I think it freaked him out, that he hated the idea of powers in general, and kind of wanted to turn us in but was worried he’d be investigated too if he did.” Mike absentmindedly crushed the cup in his hand as he said this. He’d never admitted that out loud, but everything was spilling out of him now with no time to pump the brakes. Jay was still sitting quietly, just listening with the slightest hint of care in his eyes. It was enough to make Mike continue his rambling.

“And my sister, like…she didn’t have powers, and she would always say she didn’t care, but the older she got the more she’d side with my dad, even on unrelated shit, and by the time I went off to college it was like the two of us versus the two of them, on everything.” Mike was still standing by the water cooler, worrying the remains of the cup in his hands, not willing to sit back down and face Jay. He was getting to the worst part, the part he never let himself think about, and staring at the wall was the only way he could get this out.

“So college was whatever. I liked it, I guess, making movies and just being away from home. On breaks and stuff my mom would still try to do stuff with me so my strength didn’t get soft, but it wasn’t the same, because it felt like we were doing it to exclude my sister and piss off my dad, even though we weren’t, y’know?” Mike licked over his lips, his stomach pitching a little.

“And then. And then senior year, right after I got back from Spring Break, I get a call from my dad, which was the first sign that something was fucked, because he never fucking called me. And when I picked up I just…I knew. Even before he said it.” After eight years he still can’t make himself say the words _He told me my mom was dead_ , because a stupid part of him clings to the belief that a part of her is still out there, somewhere, and if he says the words out loud it will break the spell and she’ll be gone forever.

“I drove back home right after. I don’t remember driving, or talking to my dad or sister, or planning the funeral, or anything really until the wake. It was a closed casket so I didn’t get to see her. And then they buried her, and I got in a huge fight with my dad at home, and I haven’t seen him since. And I barely talk to my sister anymore.” He turned around to face Jay. He was still sitting on the chair, slumped forward a little. Looking into Jay’s eyes, which looked sad for him, moved something inside him to admit the worst part.

“I called my dad a liar,” Mike said, and Jay’s eyebrows creased together in confusion. “After the funeral. That’s why we fought. He kept saying she died in a car crash but I knew…I just had this feeling like, that’s not right, and it kept bugging me because I knew deep down…it had something to do with her flying. An accident, or. She got caught by the wrong person. Just…I knew it, and he kept feeding everyone that car accident bullshit. So when we got home I told him I knew he was lying, that she died while flying, and he flipped out on me. He called me an ungrateful piece of shit, that I was projecting my own fears onto what happened, that I was too stupid to know the truth about anything. And I flipped out back and said he never really loved her and would’ve turned her and me in if he wasn’t so afraid of his own seedy shit being dug up. So he swung at me, and kept telling me to hit him, to make my strength fucking useful for once. And I wanted to, so bad, but I knew it would kill my mom all over again if she like, could somehow know from beyond the grave if I tried to hurt him. And my sister was there, and I looked at her like ‘help me out with this’ and when she didn’t I knew I couldn’t trust either of them anymore. So I left.”

Mike felt exhausted, walking over to his chair so he could slump into it. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, hard, as if it would make him forget everything that had just come spilling out. Jay was sitting quietly beside him, not moving or saying anything.

“I never told anyone that,” Mike said so softly he wasn’t even sure he was really speaking. “The part about how she probably really died, and how I know my dad was lying. Not even Rich.”

“I’ve never told anyone the full extent of my dad using my brother and sister for blackmail,” Jay said almost as quietly. Mike’s head snapped towards him. His eyes still looked sad, but there was a quiet warmth there too. “So we’re even.”

They sat quietly for what felt like hours, though it may have only been minutes. Mike didn’t want to check. It had been early afternoon when the conversation started and by the time they were sitting next to each other in that uneasy silence the sun had dipped a little, still bright but lacking the strength of hours ago. Mike wondered, along with everything else, if Jay regretted telling him about his family so terribly that he would clock out tonight and never return, leaving Mike to fester in their secrets alone. This had been a mistake, and all because Mike had wanted to—what? Show off? Let Jay in on something that now put him in danger, too, if anyone ever found out about Mike and looked into it to find that Jay had known about it? He’d been stupid, selfish, and now he was going to lose Jay for it. He felt sweat dripping down the back of his neck into his shirt, couldn’t even will himself to move to grab a tissue and mop it up. Moving might startle Jay, who now probably wanted to run but had nowhere to go, trapped with Mike’s selfishness. Mike felt his eyes sting a little, either from the sweat getting into them or from the threat of guilty tears. It was like he’d plopped a bloody corpse on the ground in front of them and informed Jay it was something they both had to deal with now, sorry, thanks for helping out!

He groaned quietly, sliding his hand down his face. He was losing it. This is why he didn’t talk to people about shit—letting them in even for a moment made him feel like he’d lost his fucking mind. He was startled out of his continuing mental spiral by a loud gurgling noise. He glanced over at Jay, who looked sheepish.

“Sorry,” Jay mumbled, shifting in his seat a bit. “I, uh, I’m getting hungry…we never had lunch.”

“Oh yeah,” Mike muttered back. His stomach was way too twisted to even think about eating, but getting away from the shop even for just a few minutes sounded amazing. The air in the shop was starting to feel oppressive.

“So do you wanna go get food or…?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah.” Mike jerked out of his chair too quickly, nearly knocking it over. Jay gave him a strange look that deepened when Mike said “I’ll buy.”

“Um, ok? Why?”

“‘Cause I…I don’t know,” Mike was floundering, struggling to even string a sentence together. Jay staring at him like he had three heads wasn’t helping. Possibly he was just staring at him the way someone who sprung two gigantic, heavy secrets on another person deserved to be stared at. “I feel bad for springing all that shit on you.”

Jay snorted a little, and Mike’s face turned so red he could feel his heart beat in his cheeks. “What, that your mom passed away, your dad was a dick, and you’re kind of stronger than the average person? The shit I told you could have you arrested for being a co-conspirator.”

“You could be arrested too, for not turning me in!” Mike shouted. What the hell was happening? He felt like they were working off a script and Jay had skipped several pages ahead. “And I’m not _kind of stronger_ than the average person, it’s bigger than that—“

“Says who, you?” Jay was smirking a little but there was still a glint of worry in his eyes. “You said so yourself, the fridge isn’t that heavy.”

“You are so fucking annoying,” Mike said, his heart rate finally starting to calm down, and Jay laughed, which made Mike laugh, which lead them to laugh harder and harder until they were both doubled over, the insanity of their laughter filling the whole shop, could possibly be heard outside. It was a release better than crying, the ability to display the skeletons in their closet to one another only to walk away like it was just some hysterical inside joke. Distantly, Mike had the thought that he loved Jay for guiding them to this moment, but he released that stupid thought with the rest of whatever was spilling out of him.

“You laugh is perfect if you ever wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and go full super villain,” Jay said, still snickering a little while Mike dabbed at his eyes.

“Ey, fuck you, buddy, you better watch yourself. I could punt your puny ass into the sun without super strength.”

“Oh yeah, you could punt me?” Jay said in a mocking tone so goofy it punched another laugh out of Mike. “Show me how strong you apparently are after lunch, I’m fucking starving.”

“Deal,” Mike said as they walked out, flipping the sign to _Closed_ and locking up. He was suddenly ravenous, the coils of anxiety gone and replaced by an obnoxious hunger pang that kept gurgling. 

He felt physically lighter as they made their way to the next-door deli, where Jay ordered first so Mike couldn’t pay for him, which he was guiltily relieved about. They ate out of their laps on the shitty folding chairs Mike kept in the back parking lot. Mike cracked open their sodas while Jay opened his sandwich and meticulously spread potato chips across it. They ate without speaking, both wolfing down their food, and this silence felt so much better than the one from before that Mike almost wanted to laugh. It felt like every anxiety he’d ever had had been snapped from its tether, floating away somewhere far where they could hopefully never be reached again. Even the breeze wafting the stench of rotting meat from the deli’s dumpster couldn’t sour his mood.

“So,” Jay said, dusting off his hands after they’d thrown their wrappings into the deli dumpster, Mike overly gagging to get a laugh out of Jay. “We still have two hours left before we can clock out and you can show off your amazing feats of strength.”

“Eh, fuck it. It’s a holiday weekend, we can clock out now.”

“What if corporate calls and bitches?”

“I’ll crush them, that’s what.”

Jay rolled his eyes but still smiled, holding the backdoor open for Mike so he could clock them both out up front and run right back to Jay.

“Where should we do this,” Mike asked when they were back to standing in the parking lot together. He felt invigorated, reborn somehow, like just the thought of being able to show off his powers was enough to get his blood flowing.

Jay bit his bottom lip in concentration, a tic he had that Mike had noticed a few months ago and now couldn’t unsee. “Well, what were you planning on lifting?”

“I don’t know. I guess my car.”

“Oh bullshit, you cannot lift a car.”

“The fuck—of course I can! Mother’s with a big enough adrenaline rush can lift a car off their kids, you think I can’t lift a car? Especially the piece of shit I have?”

Jay snorted, clearly enjoying getting Mike riled up, maybe even more than he would enjoy actually witnessing Mike lift stuff. Whatever. As long as he was cool with all this Mike was willing to be teased for the time being. Besides, he had a feeling Jay would shut up at least for a little bit when he saw what Mike could actually do. He was gonna make the refrigerator look like a Kleenex.

“Can’t wait to see it. I actually know a place we can go that’s totally deserted.” Jay said, walking towards the front parking lot where Mike’s car was.

“Oh. I thought we could just do it here.”

Jay turned to give Mike a look that he felt a little insulted by. “We can’t do it here, someone might see you.” A smirk started to creep onto Jay’s face. “Is this your way of chickening out?”

Mike was definitely insulted now. “No you asshole. Jesus Christ you’re annoying.”

He bulldozed past Jay to get to his car, newly anxious about this mystery location where there was supposedly no chance of onlookers. He knew he should be afraid that this was all a setup by Jay to trick him into turning himself in, having him drive to some facility where they imprisoned people with powers or wherever it was that people who got caught using them were kept, but it hadn’t been that. It had something to do with showing himself off to Jay for judgement and risking him not being impressed, which was ridiculous. He’d never given a fuck what people had thought of him in the past, which had cost him pretty much every friendship he’d ever had besides Rich, who was already too world weary by the time they’d met in high school to not just make Mike cut to the chase. Jay had felt like a test, a chance to prove to himself something he hadn’t been able to put his finger on yet. He was also somewhat nervous about driving with Jay for what could be hours, which was even more ridiculous, because he’d driven with Jay plenty of times before and had never felt like those car rides would determine where the rest of his life would go. For all these stupid reasons and even more that he didn’t have a name for yet, he was a ball of raw nerves by the time they were both situated in their respective seats, and nearly jumped out of his skin when Jay started playing with the radio.

“It’s in Illinois, like an hour and a half away, but I know no one will be there. It’s a pretty straightforward drive, too.”

“Do you mind telling me what the fuck this place is?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. It’s some stupid construction site for this park my dad was supposed to build like a year ago and then like immediately put on pause ‘cause something better came up. No one wants to call him out on it, obviously, so the government isn’t letting anyone else take over the project and now it’s just this like, giant abandoned patch of land. It’s even out of view of any houses from the town and too dirty and boring for teenagers or whoever to hang out at.”

“You sure he hasn’t restarted the project by now?” Mike asked, making a right out of the parking lot at Jay’s instruction.

“Nah. Parks bored him the most. It’ll probably sit deserted for all of time.”

With traffic the drive wound up being a little over two hours, the time passed mostly with conversation, heavier topics from earlier forgotten in favor of lighter ones. Jay insisted on keeping his window rolled down, yelling over the wind to talk to Mike, whose contributions to the conversations were grunting in agreement or answering Jay’s questions.

“How do your powers work?” Jay asked about an hour into the drive, his voice bleeding into the wind.

“Huh?”

“Your powers, like, how do you know when you’re using them—“

“I can’t hear you!”

“Oh, sorry.” Jay rolled the window up and turned the generic Top 40’s station he’d settled on off. “I asked how you knew when you’re using your powers instead of your, like, regular strength?” Jay had his face turned expectantly toward Mike, like he’d been waiting some time to ask him this question. It eased away the lingering angst Mike had about what they were doing, smirking a little.

“Uh, it’s kinda hard to describe. It’s like…I guess the best way to describe it is there’s like this switch in my brain that I can flick towards ‘On.’ And when it’s on I’m more aware of my muscles, and they feel, I don’t know, ready I guess. Then I can just do whatever until I’m done, and then I switch it ‘Off’ again and I feel more relaxed. Sometimes I get a little tired if I do a lot. I don’t know if that even makes sense.”

“No, it does,” Jay said, nodding like he was carefully carding this information away for later or something. “So you can control when it’s ‘On’?” Jay made little air quotes when he said ‘on’, the word _adorable_ flashing through Mike’s mind for some stupid reason when he did.

“Uh, usually. If I’m really drunk or whatever, sometimes it’ll go on on its own. Otherwise I can turn it on and off pretty easily.”

“Ah,” Jay said, still looking at him. Mike cleared his throat and continued.

“That’s what I had the most trouble with when I was a kid. Not letting it sneak up on me or something when I was upset, or whatever, and just start wrecking shit. My mom would do these stupid breathing exercises with me all the time whenever I got into a fight with my sister and started tearing her dolls up.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jay said, laughing. He was enjoying this, seemed like, and it made Mike want to lean into it even more.

“Ha, yeah. One time when I was like eight she pissed me off about something so I stole her dollhouse and called her into the backyard, said “watch this”, and threw it one-handed against a tree.”

“Did it break?” Jay asked, leaning forward like Mike was setting up an awesome punchline that Jay couldn’t wait to hear.

“Of course it fucking broke! It fell apart into like a million pieces. I think I even dented the tree a little bit.”

“Holy shit,” Jay said, snickering into his palm. Mike took his eyes off the road for a second to get a glimpse of Jay’s face. His eyes were bright, two joyful glowing orbs, so Mike started laughing too.

“Yeah, but my mom was fucking pissed at me. My sister ran into the house crying and suddenly my mom was next to me, dragging me to my room. She lectured me about how I needed to be more responsible, how I couldn’t use my powers in such a disappointing way, how I was supposed to know better and not hurt people. She even let my dad yell at me for a little bit.”

“Aw,” Jay said, sounding authentically upset for Mike’s younger self. It was oddly sweet. “I mean, I get it, but still. That must’ve been rough.”

“It was fine,” Mike said, feeling stupid for the way his throat suddenly got tight in response to Jay’s sympathy. “The worst part was I didn’t get any allowance until I had enough to buy her a new dollhouse, which took like three months.”

“How expensive is a fucking dollhouse?”

“Pretty fucking expensive, apparently. I think she picked a pricier one as the replacement just to fuck with me.”

They spent the rest of the drive talking about their childhoods, Mike about dumb outbursts that lead to strength related consequences, Jay about his siblings using their powers to do dumb things like sneak extra dessert or stay up late to watch horror movies with him. Mike felt a distant pain listening to Jay talk about his siblings like that, how clever and funny they were before their father corrupted them, but didn’t comment on it outside of laughing when Jay did. 

“Just keep driving down this road and you’ll see it,” Jay said after Mike had turned away from the residential area of whatever town they were in. He’d barely even noticed when they crossed the state border into Illinois and turned off the interstate, so entranced in their conversations. Now they had to wrap up, the real moment of truth at hand, and his nerves were coming back.

After driving down the road for almost an entire mile, asphalt slowly giving away to dirt, they came up to a tall chain link fence, complete with barbed wire on the top. There was also a little control panel on its entrance, which Jay got out to punch some code into, motioning for Mike to drive forward when whatever he entered worked and the fence sung open.

“Your dad didn’t change any of the codes?” Mike asked once they were both inside, the gate shut again.

“I told you, he doesn’t care about this place. Plus I think he kept most of the codes after I left to like, show me he still trusts me or some shit, like that will make me feel bad and come back.” Jay snarled at the ground after saying that, kicking at the dirt a little.

“You sure whatever little code you had to put in won’t alert him on his security system or something? Are there cameras around?”

“Mike, it’s fine. He’s not gonna care. Plus even if there are he’ll see it’s me and probably just hope I’ve come here to rethink coming back.”

“What if they’re pointed into here and he sees me—“

“Mike!” Jay stepped a little closer to him, reaching his arm out like he was going to grab Mike or something. Instead he let it fall to his side. “Relax. It’s fine. I keep telling you, he doesn’t care about this place. I think he just keeps it empty to show off that he can pull shit like that. This isn’t even a fucking good place for a park.”

Mike nodded in agreement. He was really just stalling, fully nervous about whatever would come next to the point that he could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

“Ok.” Mike said after they both stood awkwardly for a moment, staring at one another like the other was supposed to break first. “So, uh. What—what do you want to see?”

“Oh, uh.” Jay looked as lost as Mike felt, which was comforting. “I guess, uh. We really just have the car here, so. That.”

“Alright.” Mike replied, voice tight. “Stand back. This could get ugly.”

Jay snorted and rolled his eyes but also smiled a little bit as he took a few giant steps back from Mike and the car. Mike rolled his shoulders back, took a few deep breaths, and allowed himself to slip into the space where his powers were at full throttle. Calling it a switch wasn’t entirely accurate, but Mike had no better way to describe it, the way his whole body suddenly felt more alert. He swore his senses heightened when he was in this zone, his vision a little clearer, his ears picking up sounds he was pretty sure he couldn’t hear before, like cars driving on the roads distant from where they were now. Time also seemed to move just a fraction slower, letting him take in his surroundings before lunging at something. Everything always felt clearer, the world tinged with a certain sharpness as his brain ordered all blood to flow through his muscles, feeling more bulked up and ready with each breath. After allowing a few more seconds to pass to fully orient himself, he took one more deep breath before lunging at the car.

He loved this moment the most, the moment when everything around him blurred, nothing distracting him from the feeling of his arms, core, legs, everything rippling as he lifted the car high into the air. It was far more exhilarating than the refrigerator lift from earlier, at least physically. The fridge had felt almost feather light, requiring no real concentration to lift off the ground. He’d only really needed his powers for that to get the height advantage. This was better, more fulfilling, all his muscles stretching at once in a way they hadn’t been for some time. The car wasn’t causing much of a strain, but it did require some concentration and grounding to make sure he didn’t slip up. He’d started simply by grabbing the front and lifting it above his head, which now felt boring. Newly emboldened, he tossed and spun it a few times like it were pizza dough until it was horizontal in the air. He caught it with his hand flat, slowly removing his left hand once it was steady in his grip until the car was resting on just his right palm. Once it felt secure he finally turned to look at Jay. Amidst everything else he could feel the crazed grin on his face as he locked eyes with Jay, who looked like he was trying to refrain himself from clapping.

“Holy shit!” Jay yelled as Mike brought his other hand back up so he could spin the car around his head in a continuous loop. “Holy shit, holy fucking shit. Does it hurt?”

“Lifting this? Nah.” Mike put the car back down gently, not wanting to drop it in fear that it would fall apart if it got jostled slightly too rough. He dug his keys out of his pocket, an idea forming.

“Start my car,” Mike said, tossing the keys to Jay. “I’m gonna go way down that way.” He pointed toward the vast empty field that sprawled out further than he could see. “When you hear me yell ‘Go,’ drive it right at me.”

“What,” Jay sputtered. His face looked torn between joy and concern, like he wanted to go with this plan but also needed to give off some semblance of being a responsible adult. “You think you’ll—what, survive getting run over?”

“No! Trust me, just do it.”

Jay gave him one last confused parting glance before getting in the car, turning the engine on and peering at Mike from behind the windshield. Mike jogged a good few football fields worth of distance away, turning around once the car was practically out of sight and shouting “Go!” as loud as he could.

To his great annoyance Jay drove at about 20 miles per hour, crawling to where Mike was waiting at a slight squat to get a better grip of the car before it rammed into him. When Jay made no attempt to go any faster Mike ran over to the driver’s side door, getting him to stop and roll the window down.

“What the hell is this?”

“What?”

“You’re going at fucking five miles an hour!”

“I’m driving a car at you! How goddam fast do you want me to go!”

“Fast!”

“Jesus! Fine!”

Jay huffed and Mike ran a few yards away, squatting down again when he was at a good distance and signaling for Jay to move forward. He still didn’t drive as fast as Mike wanted but at least picked the speed up, enough that Mike was a little nervous when he got to ten feet away. He pushed it aside, braced his hands, and again sunk into the feeling of time becoming fluid around him as he gripped the front bumper, pushing against the car a bit before lifting it into the air above his head. The whole moment happened in a blur, a fog of concentration settling over him so thick that when he snapped out of it to look up he realized the wheels were still spinning, the sound of the engine still running.

“Take your foot off the gas!” Mike screamed up at Jay, who was yelling something indistinguishable back. 

“What?”

“Shut the car off!”

“Ah!”

Jay shut the engine off, and Mike left the car up in the air until the wheels calmed down. His elation that this had worked was starting to wear off, realization of how dumb this whole thing was settling in, and he grimaced as his arms shook a little when he placed the car down, even more gently this time as to not rock Jay around.

Jay’s attitude seemed to have flipped completely, practically leaping into Mike’s arms out of sheer joy when he literally jumped out of the car and slammed the door shut. He filled the empty, quiet air with a litany of “No way!”s, comically whipping his head from Mike to Mike’s car back to Mike again, unable to stay still.

“I can’t believe that worked!” Jay yelled after he’d calmed down slightly, his whole body still shaking with excitement as he turned fully toward Mike. “Have you ever done anything like that before?”

“No,” Mike said, grinning. His wariness had dissipated completely, punched out of existence by Jay’s enthusiasm. He felt newly awakened, firing on all cylinders and ready to put them toward peacocking, which is why he nearly fell over with laughter when Jay demanded they try again.

“Yeah,” he said after he’d looked up and stopped laughing. He’d noticed Jay had had to lean against the side of the car to hold himself up for how hard he had started laughing after Mike. “Yeah, drive back down that way. Go faster this time.”

“‘Kay!” Jay was already driving the car back, not even bothering to turn it around, just gunning it in reverse.

Mike crouched back down. His knees were starting to twinge a little but he could ignore it for now, his powers and adrenaline overtaking every other sensation in his body. Jay was driving the car forward now, further away and faster, Mike taking the time to slip fully into his zone. Despite the car coming at him far faster than before the fog of concentration slows everything down, allowing him to take in everything around him, bracing himself for how hard the initial impact of the car would be, exactly where he should place his hands for best grip, the exact way to roll back his shoulders to make lifting all the more easier. The car connected with his fingers and he felt it all, even more than before, the heat generated from hours of use almost too hot for his fingers in this state, but he pushed it away to lift it into the air in one smooth motion. He heard the wheels squeak on the ground as they were forced backward for a moment, so loud it stabbed his ears. Everything felt so much more this time, amped up to eleven, and he almost wanted to drop the car to shut down and go back to normal. But Jay was up there, held in the air by Mike and Mike alone, and the overwhelming urge to keep him safe washed through Mike. It was more powerful than the apprehension from earlier had been, even stronger than the childlike elation of first being able to show off, the need to protect Jay while keeping him entertained. It fortified every muscle in his body, clearing his head while he twisted the car around in a way that would be exhilarating but not nauseating for Jay. Jay had cut the engine as soon as he’d gotten up in the air this time so the wheels had stilled completely, leaving it safe for Mike to place the car back on the ground after one final spin. He braced himself for the crash, his powers and adrenaline maxed out and draining him of any remaining energy, but it never came. Instead he just laughed along with Jay as he bolted out of the car, doubled over and gripping the still open door.

“Oh god, agh, I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Oh shit, you okay?” Jay’s continued laughter kept Mike from feeling too guilty, and without thinking he walked over to rub Jay’s back. 

“Yeah,” Jay said, his laughter calmed but still giggling. He stood up more fully and Mike removed his hand from his back, feeling stupid for having put it there. Jay leaned against the car door, his eyes bright and his wonky teeth on full display as he beamed up at Mike. “Just wasn’t expecting you to turn the car into like. A Tilt-a-Whirl.”

“Sorry. I guess I felt, uh. Inspired.”

They stood looking at each other for a moment, Jay still grinning and Mike doing…something. He had probably been smiling, but his uncertainties were creeping back in for reasons he couldn’t place. Whatever. It probably had something to do with the energy crash after doing all that.

“You wanna be done for now?” Mike asked, hoping Jay would say yes but also willing to keep going if Jay requested it of him.

“Yeah you’ve uh, proved your point. And everything is still spinning.”

Mike chuckled before taking a deep breath, closing his eyes to power down. He felt his muscles relax, his mind calming down as his hyperawareness shut off. Within seconds his body was back to its resting state, his muscles all aching at once. He groaned, shuffling to the front of the car to sit on the hood for a minute. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jay moving to join him, gripping onto the car as he did so to keep from toppling over. Mike thought about reaching his hand out to help, then dismissed it. He was becoming newly exhausted anyway, needed to sit as soon as possible.

“You ok?” Jay asked when they’d both settled on the hood of the car. Mike groaned, trying to twist his back and lift his arms to get in a deep stretch.

“Yeah. I just get sore when I have to go back to normal. It usually wears off after a couple minutes.”

“Ok,” Jay said, and left it at that. For a while they just sat on the car, not talking, starting out into the vast field in front of them. It was getting dark, the sun nearly set. There were only a few streaks of orange-pink glow scattered within the darkening blue sky. Mike lay back on the car, groaning when he thought about the drive home.

“I can drive us home if you want,” Jay said, startling Mike. He blinked up at Jay, newly curious if maybe Jay was the real mind reader and he’d just pinned it on his brother to see how Mike would react. He pushed the stupidity of that thought aside and sat back up, accidentally brushing against Jay’s shoulder as he did so. Jay didn’t seem to mind, making no effort to move, so Mike left it, leaning against Jay while his muscles quietly spasmed in an attempt to settle back into their normal state.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You seem exhausted.”

“Thanks.”

Jay got off first, shimmying down the hood until his feet hit the ground. Mike half rolled his body to the side before sliding off, wincing as even just the effort of getting onto the ground and walking to the door made his muscles ache. He settled into his seat and closed his eyes as Jay started up the car again, fiddling with the radio before driving off. The gate opened automatically when leaving, and when Mike opened his eyes again they were back on the highway, speeding towards home.

“At least we shouldn’t hit traffic now.” Jay said, peering over his shoulder as he changed lanes.

“Mhm.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Mike glanced over at Jay to give him a _really?_ look. Jay had his eyes glued to the road, either for safe driving or because he didn’t want to look at Mike when he asked whatever pressing question was on his mind.

“I mean—yeah. Obviously.”

“Ok, so when you’re just using your regular strength, are you still stronger than most people? Or like, just how does that work?”

Mike smiled. Jay was so curious about his powers, and again the word _adorable_ flashed through Mike’s mind. It was kind of sweet, his fascination with Mike’s strength, like him having these powers wouldn’t be able to encroach on Jay’s life the way his siblings’ had and were therefore a fun part of his life and worthy of discussion.

“I mean, I probably wouldn’t come in first place at a strongman contest or anything without using my powers, but I’m pretty strong without them. I think over the years they’ve sort of bled into my normal body and made me stronger than average without having to like, do a weight lift routine or anything.”

Jay snorted at how douchey that comment sounded, and Mike punched his shoulder.

“Ow! Watch it!”

“Oh shit.” Mike bolted up in his seat, guilt and fear waking him up fully. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you—“

Jay was laughing again. “You asshole. You didn’t actually hurt me.”

Mike snarled a little as Jay laughed at his expense, punching his shoulder a little harder.

“Mike, please,” Jay said, still laughing. “I’ll bruise.”

Mike finally broke and snorted back at Jay, giving his shoulder one last half-punch-half-shove before settling back down in his seat. The conversation turned to mundane things after that, things like upcoming movies and opinions on ones they’d seen recently filling the time until they pulled into Jay’s apartment complex.

“Well,” Jay said as he parked the car in the spot closest to his building. “That was interesting.”

“Yeah.” 

Unsure of what else to do or say, Mike got out of the car to switch over to the driver’s side. Jay got out too, staring at Mike from across the roof.

“You can stay over at my place if you’re too tired to drive home.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s like a fifteen minutes drive from here. Thanks, though.”

“Sure.”

They continued staring at each either, neither wanting to be the one who ended the day. Their confessions in the shop seemed to have happened weeks ago, like it was something Mike had already known about Jay for ages, yet he felt newly exhausted thinking about it. Jay seemed to feel the same way, his shoulders sagging and the bags under his eyes more pronounced. 

“Seriously, thanks. For like, everything, and…just thanks.” Jay’s cheeks turned red as he said this, and Mike had the sudden overwhelming urge to walk around the car and hug him. They’d never hugged before, but they’d also never had a day like this before, the uncertainty of how it should end suddenly seeming like the hardest thing Mike had had to make a decision in the past several hours. Jay walked away before he could, waving as he turned to make his way inside.

“No problem!” Mike shouted after him, and he swore he heard Jay snort in response. He watched Jay disappear into the building fully before making his way to the driver’s side door, slouching down into the seat and forcing his eyes open on the way home.

Once there he immediately made his way to bed, barely having the energy to strip his clothes off before crawling under the sheets in just his boxers. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, beckoned into a dream that would change his life possibly more than anything else that happened that day had.

The dream started off normally enough. Mike was sitting next to Jay in the back row of their usual movie theater, other people shuffling in and out while they waited for the film to start. Jay was talking but Mike couldn’t make out what he was saying, and as the movie started the screen was a horrible blur. He turned to Jay to ask if he thought it looked weird, but he was gone. He snapped his attention back to the screen, but that was gone too. The entire auditorium had been engulfed in mist, thickest where the screen once was. The mist was cool, almost too cold, and Mike had no choice but to welcome it as he walked forward, the world around him disappearing until he was lost completely in a chilled, thick gray. 

Before he could panic the mist cleared, just as fast as it had appeared. Mike found himself staring into a tall shrub, stretching further than he could crane his neck up to see. There was another one a few feet beside it, just as tall, leaving a decent-sized entrance between them. Both shrubs stretched to either side of the entrance with seemingly no end, and behind Mike was a cold darkness that felt more threatening than the mist had. Mike groaned, realizing what he had to do. He’d always hated mazes, even the easy ones they put on the placemats at restaurants as a kid, but he had no choice. He stepped between the shrubs, feeling the entrance close up behind him as he moved into the maze.

He’d wandered for what felt like hours, or maybe it was only minutes, time warped by being caught in a dream with nothing changing. He would turn a corner hoping for the end, only to find another level of the labyrinth. He tried punching through a few times in frustration, but all it would do was sting his hand and grow back. He had to get through it on his own, had to earn his way out. It felt impossible, and the longer it went on the more dread and frustration seeped into him. More than once he wished Jay were with him to see him through this, and every time he had a sense that he had to see this to the end if he wanted Jay by his side. 

On and on the maze went, every row looking like the one before it, until finally he turned a corner and saw a light, far off in the distance. In the dream he ran, faster than he knew he could, his feet practically flying off the ground as he made his way closer and closer to the light. For a moment he was afraid that he would never reach it, that the end would never come, but he was engulfed in its brightness for a blinding minute, the shrubs falling away, white hot light the only thing surrounding him. 

The light faded, cooling to a single bulb overhead, allowing Mike to take in his surroundings. He was startled to realize he was in his old college dorm, the one he’d had freshman year before moving off campus. Everything was there, from the faded movie posters peeling off the wall at the corners to the little dresser the school provided with clothes spilling out of it, to his bed shoved into the corner under the window. Most startling of all was that on top of the bed sat Jay, looking calm and expectant.

“I knew you’d come find me,” he said, eyes bright, beckoning to Mike in little twitches of his body. Then Mike was on the bed, next to Jay, touching him, their combined weight sinking the mattress down as they stared at each other. Everything seemed so comically small, though Mike wasn’t much bigger than he had been in college, at least not height wise. It had something to do with being back in this space where he’d felt like an adult, fully grown, despite having no clue what life had in store for him or how to handle it. But whatever he had done had brought him Jay, and nothing felt more important than that as he stared into Jay’s eyes, their color fading before he could make out what they were.

“Mike,” Jay whispered, and Mike wanted nothing more than to roll onto Jay and just have him, strip him of his clothes and feel every inch of his skin against his own. Jay parted his legs, reaching over to place his hand on Mike’s knee. Mike spread his own legs on instinct, licking over his lips. Jay parted his slightly, and there was nothing more pressing in the world to Mike than connecting their lips together and kissing the air out of Jay’s lungs. He leaned over to do so, Jay squeezing his knee, taking a shuddery breath as Mike’s lips brushed over his.

Mike was jerked awake by the sound of his alarm, which he had forgotten to turn off for the weekend. He groped for his phone and silenced it with half open eyes, then grabbed for the bottle of lotion he had on his nightstand. He squirted a dollop of it onto his palm and fished his dick out of his boxers, too sleepy to care about smearing lotion on his sheets in the process. The only thing he could process was that the dream had made him hard, almost painfully so, and he needed to take care of his morning wood. In his half awake state he trailed through his foggy brain to pick up where the dream left off. 

He tugged on his cock as he drifted back into being on that dorm bed with Jay, leaning in to kiss him as Jay gasped into his mouth. Mike pictured him making the most overwhelmed little noises, half swallowing and gasping every chance Mike let him resurface for air before licking into his mouth again. Jay would surrender, gladly, to Mike undressing him, pulling his shirt over his head in a way that didn’t let them break their kiss before moving his hands down Jay’s chest and stomach, making him shiver as Mike undid his jeans and pulled his pants and boxers off in one tug. Mike would push Jay down onto the bed, leaning over him high enough to get his own pants and boxers off, leaving his shirt on, not wanting to waste another second.

Mike pulled on himself harder, a moan escaping his lips as he imagined working his fingers into Jay, loosening him up, Jay bucking his hips down and going crazy just for that, whimpering when Mike removed them, sighing happily against Mike’s lips when he felt them being replaced by the head of Mike’s cock. Mike was too groggy and too desperate to imagine prepping Jay for long, forgoing lube altogether. The thought that Jay would be so desperate he would let Mike fuck into him dry elicited another moan from Mike, precome spurting from his tip and sliding down his shaft, mixing with the lotion to give his hand an even better glide. He was jerking himself off at a rapid pace now, the gasp of pleasure that Jay would breathe into Mike as Mike slid his cock into him ringing in Mike’s ears. Jay would ball his tiny little fists against Mike’s chest as he moaned underneath him, throw his head back and drool for how good Mike was giving it to him. And god, he would whimper out little begs like _please_ and _don’t stop_ and _faster, Mike, please, please, please_ , even as Mike fucked into him as hard and fast as he could. Mike’s mental state had surpassed exhaustion, completely lost in the thought of Jay’s face scrunched up in pure bliss, how his little fingers would feel gripping on Mike’s shoulders, the wanton moans that Mike would push out of him when his cock hit Jay’s prostate just right, how it would only take a couple heavy slams into that sweet spot to have Jay crying and coming on Mike’s dick. Mike came with one final hard tug at the thought of Jay crying, begging Mike to forgive him for coming so soon, that he couldn’t help himself when Mike was giving it to him that good. He turned his head to groan into his pillow as his orgasm pulsed through his fingers, making a mess of his sheets, his boxers, even getting a little bit on his stomach. He stayed in bed for a few minutes while his brain came back online and woke up fully, not grossed out about laying in his own spunk enough to get up quite yet. That was the best load he’d blown in awhile, possibly ever, and he felt almost cozy if not lonely in its afterglow.

Eventually the feeling of lying in his spunk got to be too gross, taking off his boxers and balling them up with the sheets. He shucked them both into the already overflowing hamper, scratching at the cum drying on his stomach, starting to itch. He got into the shower, turning it to full heat despite still being a little overheated from his orgasm, feeling lazy and slow. He scrubbed soap over his chest, drifting back to thoughts of that dream, how electric he’d felt when he got out of that stupid maze and was reunited with Jay—

The bar of soap slipped from his hand but he made no effort to catch it, his body jolting awake as his brain scrambled and panicked. Because holy shit, holy fuck, no, no, absolutely fucking not, he did _not_ just have the best sex dream and jerk off session of his life to fucking _Jay_. The bathroom suddenly felt too hot, the water beating down on him like bullets. He wanted to puke, or scream, or punch a hole in the wall, because honestly what the fuck. He couldn’t feel that way about Jay.

 _Maybe you don’t_ , he tried to reason with himself as he got his breathing under control. He got out of the shower and started talking out loud to himself, reasoning that it was because Jay had been with him all day yesterday, he fell asleep just after seeing him, the wires got crossed weird, that was all. He’d had sex dreams about friends before, and after feeling weird for an hour the feeling went away.

Only this time it wouldn’t, and deep down he knew that, and now he was fucked. Because thinking about it, when was the last time he dated someone? Or even slept with anybody? Since Jay had come into the picture he’d spent his year watching movies and drinking at Jay’s side, getting laid maybe once or twice a month if Jay wasn’t around and barely missing sex in the interim. There’d always been that weird spark, too, since the second he fucking laid eyes on him, the stupid thing that ignited every desire he had to tell Jay about his powers and his mom and to want Jay to share those kinds of things with him too, to want it as much as Mike did.

Mike groaned, sliding his palm so hard down his face he felt the skin under his eyes tug. He’d been pacing around his bedroom in nothing but a towel for almost an hour reasoning that he didn’t have feelings for Jay only to come up with a million more reasons that he did. 

He whined, flopping onto his bare mattress and rubbing his eyes hard, as if that would erase the dream and the realization that he was probably in love with Jay and had been since January. He was tempted to call Rich, see if maybe he foresaw something happening between him and Jay, but felt sick to his stomach thinking about any possible outcome. _Yes_ would cause him to call Jay right after and demanded they fuck, probably ruining any possibility of a longstanding relationship. _I haven’t seen anything_ would leave him even more antsy. _No_ would crush his fucking soul so bad he would do something drastic like track down his sister in Nevada and force her to commiserate with him. This was his problem, and he would just have to sit with it and figure out what to do later.

The long weekend was both a blessing and a curse, Mike longing to see Jay but also terrified of what it would be like to face him after having that stupid dream unearth all this shit for him. He spent the weekend alone, ignoring Jay’s texts asking him if he was coming to Josh’s party and lying to Rich that he couldn’t make it to their friend Jack’s barbecue, afraid that if he was left alone with Rich for even a second he would breakdown and beg him to foresee where the fuck this all was going to go. Instead he spent his weekend running boring errands and doing pointless chores, feeling lonely every time he was outside his apartment and then stupid for being lonely.

Mostly he just jerked off. Every time he would try to come up with some plan on how to weasel a love confession out of Jay his thoughts devolved into all the lewd shit he would make Jay do if he did confess. It started off simple enough, imaging blowjobs in the backroom while Jay blinked up at him like having Mike’s dick in his mouth was the pinnacle of his entire life, but even that faded away to weirder shit. His favorite fantasy he’d conjured up that weekend involved holding Jay up by the ankles with one hand and holding his ass cheeks open with the other as he licked at Jay’s hole and ate it out like Jay’s ass was the greatest thing Mike had ever tasted, because by the third time he’d beat off to this fantasy he was convinced it would be. Jay would be overwhelmed and turned on and humiliated by this method all at once, and Mike came hard every time he imagined the pinched off little moan Jay would breathe out when Mike licked over a particularly sensitive spot. Even sleep wouldn’t allow him to escape, every dream he had that weekend involving Jay sucking on Mike’s neck or pushing his knees up to his shoulder as he lay on his back waiting for Mike, fluttering doe eyes up at him as he waited for Mike to mount up and fuck him stupid.

By Tuesday morning Mike felt hungover, wrecked with lovesickness and anxiety. He hadn’t drank all weekend, feeling queasy enough as it was, but his emotions had compounded in a headache so severe Mike had wished he’d at least tried dulling down his thoughts with booze.

The sky was overcast, threatening rain at any moment to mix with the chill that had crept into the air overnight. The entire weekend had been warm and bright, cloudless blue skies mocking Mike that Jay was out with friends while Mike holed up in his apartment jerking off mournfully. Jay had texted that he’d woken up early and taken the bus to work and wouldn’t need a ride like he sometimes did, which felt like a slap in the face to Mike despite the fact that it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. None of those other mornings had come after three days of Mike wrestling with his emotions and making himself sick thinking about what the fuck he was going to say to Jay. By the time he pulled into the parking lot, he settled on looking and acting vaguely pissed in the hopes it would ward Jay off from talking too much. Mike had also realized in those three days that he loved Jay’s voice, already missed hearing it. He was in love with all of Jay, really, and it was going to make working and being friends with him kind of suck. He already felt that this would be a million times harder than hiding his powers from him had been.

“Morning.” Jay waved at Mike as he walked into the shop. He looked a little red, and Mike got his hopes up that Jay had come to similar conclusions over the weekend that made him blush for Mike’s presence before realizing it was just a sunburn. He felt like ice water had been thrown onto the little embers of yearning in his heart, now feeling authentically pissed.

“You didn’t answer any of my texts you fuck,” Jay said when Mike just took his usual seat beside him in silence. Jay didn’t sound the slightest bit annoyed, smiling around the word ‘fuck’ like he was a child that picked up cursing. Mike remembered how elated Jay had looked when he realized he could swear his little heart out on the job and swallowed down the moan that sprung up into his throat from the pang in his heart.

“I was busy,” Mike snapped, keeping his voice as cold as possible. “And I hate texting.”

“Jesus, fine. Did you at least get to go outside? It was fucking gorgeous—“

“Yup.” Mike cut him off, his headache returning. He wanted to crawl back into bed, preferably with Jay crawling in next to him. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, trying to blind himself with the overhead lights. He couldn’t think about that shit here, or he’d be drowning in the deep end of his emotions pool even more than he already was.

“Are you ok?” Jay asked when Mike looked back down to flip through their call sheet as if it was actually important.

“I’m fine, Jay.”

“Fine.” Jay sounded pissed, maybe even hurt, and Mike wanted to sink to his knees and confess everything while begging Jay not to break his fucking heart. He slammed his head on the desk when Jay went into the back to brew coffee. He was so fucked.

The rest of the morning passed silently, Mike putting an icy wall up between them that Jay kept shooting pouty little glares through. Mike ignored him, and ignored how cute he found Jay’s face when it was scrunched up in annoyance. Mike decided he would keep this up all day and come up with a better plan tonight, a real one that wasn’t just an excuse to touch himself. This plan was immediately thwarted when he went to the fridge to get his lunch and almost had a heart attack upon finding a dead mouse next to the couch back there.

“ _Fuck_!” He screamed, bolting back to the front counter, his appetite forgotten. He felt like he was going to puke.

“What?” Jay asked, standing up in alarm. “What the hell, what happened?”

“There’s a fucking…mouse, a dead mouse next to the couch.”

“Oh,” Jay said, wrinkling his nose and offering nothing more. “Ew.”

“ _E_ _w?_ There’s a fucking dead animal in our shop and all you say is _ew_?”

“It’s a mouse, Mike, it’s not like a dog got fucking shot back there.”

“It’s a _dead mouse,_ it’s just lying back there all…” Mike retched, partly to be overdramatic and partly because he actually did feel a little sick.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jay said when Mike stayed bent over his chair, refusing to move. “You’ve never gotten mice in your apartment?”

“No!”

Jay rolled his eyes. “You’re seriously not going to take care of it?”

“You do it, you don’t seem to have a fucking problem with it!”

“Ew, no, I don’t want to touch it. We don’t even have gloves or anything to act as a barrier.”

“Then why the hell would I be the one to get rid of it?”

“Because you fucking found it! And you’ve been a dick to me all day, why the fuck should I have to deal with it?”

Mike floundered on that one. His attempts to squash his feelings had bitten him in the ass and also not squashed shit. Jay looked as lovable as ever reprimanding Mike for his asshole behavior. 

“Look, I’m sorry, ok? My weekend was just…weird, or whatever, I swear I’ll stop acting like a dick, just please, please, get rid of that fucking thing.”

Jay stared Mike down, looking like he was torn between obeying Mike’s orders and making Mike beg. Mike decided to throw him a bone, if for no other reason than to get the creepy mouse corpse out of their shop.

“I promise, please? You grew up on a farm, you’re used to this stuff—“

“It wasn’t, like, a functioning farm! It was just a farm _house_.”

“Fucking whatever! Can you just do it, please, I’ll..buy you lunch, or something, I just hate dead animals, they creep me the fuck out—“

“Jesus Christ, ok!” Jay waved his hands to get Mike to stop babbling. “I’ll take care of it. Baby.”

Mike was too amused that Jay had accidentally called him by a pet name to be annoyed that his cowardice had been thrown in his face. He peeked over his shoulder to make sure Jay was heading toward the couch, sincerely not wanting to see the mouse again. He knew he could get Jay to do what he wanted, even if it took some cajoling. He sat in his chair, his mind wandering to other things he could talk Jay into with enough buttering up.

He got lost in his daydreams for a while, trying not to pop a boner before Jay came back before he realized that Jay had been gone for a weirdly long time. He got up, poking his head through the backroom doorframe and found Jay hunched over by the couch, not moving.

“Jay?” He said as he crept closer to him, not wanting to startle him but not sure what the fuck was going on. “Jay, what—“

“The mouse,” Jay said, not looking up, nothing about him moving except the heavy breaths that heaved his chest.

“What about it?” Mike leaned over Jay to look down at where the mouse had been. “Where is it? Did you shove it under the couch?”

Jay shook his head in a little twitch. He took a reedy breath in, sounding like he was about to cry. 

“Jay.” Mike was officially worried now, picking Jay up by the shoulders and turning him around, Jay keeping his face turned down. “Jay, you’re freaking me the fuck out, what the hell is going on—“

“It moved.” Jay said in a broken little voice that barely sounded like it belonged to him. Mike was still holding him up, unwilling to put him down until he snapped out of whatever the fuck was going on.

“What do you mean _it moved_? Was it really just sleeping?”

“No, it. I.”

Something was dawning on Mike, a realization, more severe than the one over the weekend but somehow less alarming. 

“Jay,” Mike said, making his voice quiet. He still wouldn’t look Mike in the eye. “Tell me what happened.”

“It was…wasn’t sleeping, it was dead, I tried to move it…”

“Ok.” He wanted to turn Jay’s face to his but didn’t dare move a muscle.

“So I put my hand out, I…I touched it.”

Mike heard Jay swallow hard before he brought his head up to look at Mike. They were both breathing hard, unwilling to speak above a whisper.

“Mike.”

“Jay.”

“I brought it back to life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dream was inspired by the song Garden Song by Phoebe Bridgers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Coq for letting me ramble about plot ideas <3


End file.
